The trials and tribulations of a teenage pyromaniac
by dustdancingintheflickerlight
Summary: Fire isn't the only thing troubled Connor Mulgrew has to deal with. (Just to say I haven't actually finished this, but I've got bit of a writers block when it comes to this fic! If anyone is still reading, I'll try and update soon!)
1. Promises

Prologue

"_You don't care about me!" the 15-year-old Connor Mulgrew screamed at his mother. "If you did, you'd listen to me and you would stop poisoning yourself with that stuff!"_

_Christine Mulgrew had recently left her job as an English teacher at a comprehensive school in Edinburgh. She was currently attempting to wangle herself a case of unfair dismissal, but deep down even she knew it was a lost cause; a 12-year old rushed to hospital due to drinking the vodka that she had left in her classroom was not a matter to be taken lightly. Stupid, curious kids, she thought to herself. The alcoholic had managed to make a deal with the head-teacher – she would hand in her notice today, as long as they let Connor stay at the school until she found a new job. He agreed hastily, not wanting to prolong the inevitable. Christine was a great teacher and it would be sad to see her go, but a court case was the last thing a school with an already-terrible reputation needed. But Connor didn't know they were leaving yet again, and when she delivered the news, he was furious._

"_Every time I settle in somewhere, you ruin it! I'd finally made some half-decent friends, after months of being the weird new kid with a teacher for a mother, and you're taking that away from me again! You know what, I'm sick of you. I'd be so much better off without you. I hope you choke on your precious vodka." _

_Connor instantly regretted what he'd just said. Despite her obvious personality flaws and problems, he loved her. It had always been the two of them, with no father in the picture. To be honest, he'd have no chance without her. Christine's heart broke. She tried to tell herself that he didn't mean it, but she knew she was a terrible mother and she would always live to regret the decisions she had made. There was nothing she could do now, though. Whatever he thought of her, she was completely and utterly dependant on alcohol. It wasn't enough for her, as an addict, to stop just because someone she loves hates her. _

"_You don't mean that. I'm sorry but we have to move. There are no jobs around here, and if you want a roof over your head then you just have to accept that!" Christine was trying her hardest not to cry. She'd had these types of arguments with him before, but to hear him wish death upon her was painful._

_Connor, appalled by his own words, was speechless. He ran a hand through his messy black hair, said nothing, and ran to his room, leaving Christine fighting back tears in their living room, hand itching towards the vodka in her handbag._

_Upstairs, Connor lay on his bed, running through the day's events in his head. He'd plucked up the courage to talk to a girl he fancied at school, struggled to finish his History coursework even though it was his favourite subject, then came home and watched the most recent episode of Doctor Who. A good day, by all accounts – and then the inevitable argument with his mum. Sighing, he pulled open his sock drawer, and rummaged around in search of his lighter. He always hid it in there, because if Christine found it she would lecture him on the dangers of smoking, even though she smoked liked a chimney - hypocrite. Connor found solace in fire - watching the flames sparkle magnificently, feeling all worry and anger float away. He casually pressed down, seeing the tall amber flame shoot up gracefully. _

_Each time he worked himself up so much that he felt the need to ignite something, he mentally promised himself that he would never let his mum get to him that much again. Each time, he was wrong. _

AN: I've changed this a little bit, as I realised that it wasn't really relevant before. Cheers for reading x


	2. First Day

AN: The storyline doesn't really kick in yet - this is more of a sort of starter chapter, setting the scene and stuff! I shall upload Chapter 2 asap. Reviews/advice welcome! I don't own Waterloo Road, ect.

Chapter 1. 

Any other teenager would most likely dread the thought of starting a new school – new friends to make, new teachers to hate, and new work to struggle through. Not Connor Mulgrew, though. He was used to moving around. So much so that he had become accustomed to walking around by himself, not even attempting to make friends – what was the point? He'd only end up saying his goodbyes when his mother yet again did something idiotic that resulted in them making a quick exit. So as he pulled on a black, elbow-patched cardigan over his brand new uniform, he decided to keep his head down and focus on his new mission – help his mum stop drinking, once and for all.

"Connor, hurry up or I'm leaving without you! I refuse to be late on my first day." his mum, Christine, shouted from the bottom of the stairs.

"Since when have you been bothered about that?" he mumbled, careful for her not to hear him, he really couldn't be bothered with an argument today. "Hang on, I'll be there in a minute!" he shouted, back to his normal thick Scottish voice. Stuffing his books into his bag, he brushed his teeth in record time and darted down the stairs, only to see Christine stuffing her essentials into her bag – a half-litre bottle of cheap vodka. Rolling his eyes, he went to the car, praying that no-one would find out they were related.

Connors day brightened significantly when he saw that he had double-history first. People might laugh, but he loved History. If he managed to wangle himself a place in University, he definitely wanted to do it there. He'd been assigned a locker on the main corridor, and as he made his way there, he noticed a pretty black-haired girl who looked around his age going in the same direction. She was wearing a black skirt and tights, a white t-shirt adorned with Waterloo Road's logo, and over it, she had pulled a ripped black vest. Strange, he thought. The laces of her Doc Martens were undone, and he was pretty sure she would fall over. The girl was like a paradox – she seemed to ooze self-confidence but at the same time she looked lonely, as if she kept herself to herself. Wondering what her name was, he finally got to his locker, and then sped off to History with Miss McFall.

"Hello, class. My name is Miss McFall and I'll be teaching you History for the next two years at Waterloo Road. I can see some familiar faces from Havelock, but to the others – welcome! We are going to dive straight in with one of the most interesting topics in my opinion: the Civil Rights Movement. Talk amongst yourselves for five minutes while I take the register, and then we will start with the man himself, Martin Luther King!" Miss McFall was cheery, a bit too cheery for first thing on a Monday morning. Sighing, Connor suddenly realised he'd been sat next to the unusual girl from earlier.

"Hey." he said, trying not to sound to eager to get to know her. As she looked up from doodling in her notebook, Connor noticed she had astonishingly beautiful green eyes.

"Hi. I'm Imogen, by the way."

"Connor."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think I've seen you at Havelock." she said, Connor smiling at her abrupt bluntness.

"Nah, I've just moved here from Edinburgh." Connor tried to stifle a yawn, not wanting to look ignorant, but failed. "Sorry."

Imogen laughed, her eyes sparkling with amusement. "Am I boring you?" she joked. She quite liked him already. A lot different to the boys at her old school – it was full of chavs, scouring the school corridors for girls like lions in search of pray. She estimated that about 55% of all girls who attend Havelock left pregnant. Imogen wished she was exaggerating.

Connor just laughed and mumbled something about being 'knackered.' Before Imogen could reply, Miss McFall jumped up from her chair, and began a rambling lecture about the magnificence and inspirational leadership of Martin Luther King Jr. The lesson passed relatively quick, nothing particularly exciting happening. After an hour, the bell emitted an ugly, shrill sound – it was time for English_. Shit__, _Connor thought. The lesson he'd been dreading for weeks.

"What have you got now? I've got English with Mrs Mulgrew." As Imogen slung her bag over her shoulder, Connor noticed it was decorated with various different badges of bands; The Smiths, The Beatles, the Sex Pistols.

"Me too, I'll walk with you. If I get lost, I'm holding you personally responsible."

**Christine's POV. **

1 hour. I can do it. One hour without another drink, easy. I just can't risk it now – I really, really need to keep this job, and God, I can only imagine Connor's over-the-top reaction if he saw me drinking in class on the first day. I dismissed my first class, taking a quick swig of vodka as the next class lined up outside. _Connor's class_, I thought, _he really does not want to start on me today._

"Welcome to English, I'm Mrs Mulgrew. I hope you have all got your copies of A Streetcar Named Desire; we will be starting that straight away. Take a seat."

I watched as everyone piled in, chatting animatedly, and noticed Connor sitting at the back next to a girl who I recognised from my register photo's as Imogen Stewart. _At least he's __making new friends_; I thought, _he knows by now not to go chatting about our private life._ I loaded the register and proceeded to read out the new, unfamiliar names.

"Scout?" A bubbly blonde girl answered.

"Dynasty?" Another blonde girl, caked in thick layers of make-up answered.

"Imogen?" No answer. I looked to the back, only to see her and Connor chatting away. They looked as though they had known each other forever. "No Imogen then?" I got her attention this time.

"Here, Miss. Sorry, I got distracted." The girl said, obviously trying hard not to laugh. What were they talking about?

I finished the register, instructed the class to read Scene 1 and 2 in silence and make notes on Blance Dubois' character, and noticed my hand starting to shake. Surely, I've gone longer this without a drink? I longed to pull the bottle out of my handbag, tip the beautiful clear liquid down my throat and feel that slight burning sensation that I loved. Sod this, I'm off.

"Okay, class. I have to pop out for a moment. Please carry on making your notes – I will be testing you on this next lesson. In silence, please. I won't be long."

Grabbing my bag and avoiding Connor's gaze, I darted towards the ladies toilets.

**Connor's POV. **

"Okay, class. I have to pop out for a moment. Please carry on making your notes – I will be testing you on this next lesson. In silence, please. I won't be long."

I rolled my eyes at my mother's pathetic excuse. I'm not daft. Of course 'I have to pop out for a moment' is her code for 'I have to go and pour alcohol down my neck because I am a poor excuse for a teacher and I have zero willpower whatsoever.' Jesus. I'm definitely not letting anyone know that we are related. Lost in thought, I almost didn't hear Imogen start talking.

"She seems nice."

"Really? I think she's a bitch."

"How could you possibly know that? You've only known her for five minutes." Imogen seemed amused by my blunt judgement.

_Don't tell her! Don't tell__ her!_ I chanted in my head. I really liked her though, and I didn't want to mess things up in the long run by lying to her.

"I've known her for sixteen years."

Her lovely eyes were now misty with confusion; each time I looked at her I noticed a different colour in her eyes. I couldn't even put my finger on a particular colour – they were magnificent, like the ocean after a storm.

"Seriously?"

"I didn't want anyone to know but… yeah. She's my mum."


	3. Birthday

2.

_Christine Mulgrew was 27. On the outside, it looked like she had a great life – a nice house, a lovely little 7-year old son and a comfortable job teaching English. She saw it differently. When she looked in the mirror, she saw a woman who had wasted her life. She wouldn't change Connor for the world, mind, but deep down she felt useless. Falling pregnant at 20, her religious parents guilt-tripped her into marrying her boyfriend, Joe. It was never going to work out, they were too different. But they married, and a couple of months after Connor were born, she left him. The inevitable breakdown of her marriage was awfully affecting – Christine was now drinking heavily, only stopping to take care of her son. There was no-one around to help them, she'd been disowned by her family, and the last thing she wanted was a romantic reunion with Joe. One day, she realised she was dependent on alcohol and made a decision. She wouldn't stop, but would always know her limits. She would never let Connor see her in a horrible state, never. How wrong she was. _

_17__th__ January 2002 – Connor's 6__th__ birthday. Christine was determined to make an effort this year, even though it would probably only be him, h__er and her mother, who had decided to visit. Brilliant, she thought, I really need her today. Christine's mother, Debbie, was a hard-faced cow at the best of times, but there was no denying that she loved her grandkid. Arriving with handfuls of gifts in to__w, Debbie played in the living room for hours with Connor, spoiling him rotten and absolutely doting on him. Christine wasn't complaining; she was quite happy with a bottle of wine (or two) in the kitchen, the peace was nice. But as the hours passed, and t__oday being a school night, she was so engrossed in lesson plans she completely forgot about her little boy in the front room. It got to seven o'clock and Christine had ploughed through 2 and a half bottles of wine, her body so used to alcohol that she was __only slightly drunk. She could handle herself though, like she'd promised all those years ago, she would never let Connor see her in that state. _

"_Christine, I have to go. It's been nice today. I mean, seeing Connor has been nice. My only child ignoring us in favour of work and booze was not. You're a disgrace, do you know that?" Debbie sniped, viciously. "That poor kid in there would be better off in a care home than living with you!" _

_It was a low blow, even for her. She knew Christine tried to be the best mother she could be while struggling with her alcoholism. _

_Christine was furious. "Who do you think you are? Coming into my house and shouting the odds! Who are you to talk about parenting, anyway? Forcing me to marry someone I clearly wasn't in love with just so God would accept you, and then refusing to speak to me when I stood up for myself and left him! Get out of my house if you have nothing nice to say." _

"_This has nothing to do with the mistakes I've made." Debbie said. "This is to do with the fact that I have just listening to my 6-year old grandchild asking me whether his mother loves him! Yeah, he said that! 6-years old and he doubts whether he is loved. It's heart-breaking. Please, love, just sort your drinking problem out. You need to, for his sake. I know you love him, I know he is your world, but please, just sort your life out. He can stay with me if you need to go into a rehab clinic or something. Please, do it for him." _

_Christine was speechless. She felt as though her heart had actually shattered into tiny pieces – it finally dawned on her that her drinking didn't just affect her. But she was too stubborn for her own good._

"_Get out of my house." _

_Debbie acquiesced, leaving without saying another word. Christine watched her until she drove away, and then ran upstairs to Connor's bedroom. She opened the door nervously, hoping he was still awake. _

"_Hey, sweetheart." Connor looked up at his mother. His striking eyes were orbs of blue, with a slight tinge of red, an obvious sign that he was tired out._

"_Look." He held up a drawing that he had been working on. It was a lovely little picture of himself, his mum and his grandma, with the words 'I love my family.' in scrawled, jumbled letters. To say it had been done by a six year old, it was brilliant. "It's for show and tell!" he informed her, grinning widely, proud of himself._

"_Wow! I love it." She told him, sitting on the floor next to him. "I bet all your classmates will be jealous. Now, listen. Have you had a nice day?" _

_Connor nodded absentmindedly, currently distracted by a plastic toy car. Christine smiled, still shook by the home truths from her mother. _

"_Great. Happy birthday, son. Now listen, seeing as though it is your birthday, you can stay up for another ten minutes, ok? But you have to promise me that you'll be in bed when I come back up!" _

_Christine made her way downstairs, stopping on the landing. She suddenly felt very dizzy, and struggled to stay on her feet as a harsh wave of nausea washed over her. The pain in her head was too much and everything was turning black. Frightened, she tried to turn around to get to the bathroom. But the next thing she remembered was being laid at the bottom of the stairs, no longer feeling sick but the excruciating pain in her head compensated for that. _

_At the top of the stairs, Connor was gazing at his mother lying helplessly on the floor. He knew something was wrong, but what should he do? Maybe he should ring Santa. Santa knows everything. No wait, I'll ring my grandma. As he ran off, desperately looking for a phone, both Christine and Connors eyes filled with tears. _

_Christine slipped in and out of consciousness, painfully remembering the day she promised never to let him see her in a state. _

_I'm a failure, she thought, my mum was right, he is better off without me._

_And with that she unwillingly succumbed to the darkness, leaving a distraught little boy confused and alone. _


	4. Pain and Pleasure

3.

A couple of weeks had passed since Waterloo Road opened. Nothing much had happened really, if you don't count new girl Jade's boyfriend going mental and threatening everyone with a knife. Turns out, they were on the run from their foster home as Drew had got himself into some kind of trouble with the police. When Jade revealed she was pregnant, Mr Byrne offered her accommodation in the school house, and Drew was arrested. Outside of school, though, Christine's drinking was as bad as ever and Connor was struggling to turn a blind eye to it, as he usually does. He was growing closer to Imogen every day and had a new best mate, Kevin. The last thing he wanted was to move away again.

Connor was sat in the dinner hall, alone, looking miserable. He'd tried and failed to 'out' his mum by asking her some complicated questions about Fitzgerald's alcoholism. It backfired, and as usual, she manipulated his words into something she could use to humiliate him and deflect all attention from herself. When Imogen strolled over, her usual daydreaming self, he was too lost in thought to notice.

"Don't I even get a hello?" Smiling, she sat down opposite him.

"Sorry. I was miles away." Connor noticed that every time she was around, he cheered up almost instantly. For a while, all the sadness and frustration of his home life disappeared. Imogen was the antidote to his mother's poison.

"Obviously! Come on, then. What was going on with your mum in English today? You seemed pretty determined to annoy her."

"I just wanted some answers." Connor desperately wanted to tell her everything, it would be a massive weight of his shoulders to tell someone, anyone, but he knew it would jeopardise Christine's job and his place here.

Imogen, not eating but fiddling with a bottle of Diet Coke, looked up at her friend. The instant chemistry between them had come as a shock but she was convinced that Connor was the loveliest boy she'd ever met. How could he have had such a massive impact on her? They hadn't even known each other for long! Thoughtfully, she asked him "Are you okay? Like, really okay? You always seem so down and it always seems to involve your mum."

Connor toyed with the idea of spilling all. What's the worst that could happen? Christine's reputation would be tarnished but he would no longer have to bear the burden of being an alcoholic's son. No more itching to grab his lighter, because not having self-harmed for at least a year, he was now channelling his fury into fire; it was as if all the worry and resentment burned away like the leaves he ignited.

"It's… it's just that… I'm fine. Seriously, don't worry about me." Wistfully, he added, "Everyone is bound to find out sooner or later anyway."

Now more confused than ever, Imogen was interested but sensed Connors clear discomfort, she tactically changed the subject.

"What are you doing tonight, then? D'ya fancy going to the cinema or something?"

"Are you asking me on a date?" Connor smirked. He already knew his answer, but he didn't want to appear too eager. Anything that got him out the house was great, and Imogen being with him was a lovely bonus.

"Calm yourself, it's just a film." And with that, the mysterious, wonderful girl that Connor had grown to love, grabbed her bag and walked away, leaving Connor feeling extra confused but a lot less lonely.

Later that day, Connor got home earlier than his mum. She had probably gone to the pub – shock. Undoing the laces of his uncomfortable black school shoes, he darted up the stairs, logging himself onto Facebook.

3 New Friend Requests:

Dynasty Barry – 87 mutual friends.

Harley Taylor – 59 mutual friends.

Jodi 'Scout' Allen – 123 mutual friends.

He pressed accept to all of them. Glancing to the corner at his chat box, he clicked on Imogen Stewart, who was now online.

_Connor Mulgrew: Hey _

_Imogen Stewart: Hello you_

_Connor Mulgrew: Were you serious about tonight?_

_Imogen Stewart: Yea! I wouldn't have asked otherwise! So, you up for it then?_

_Connor Mulgrew: Yea, let me get changed and I'll meet you in town at 5.30? _

_Imogen Stewart: Cool. See you there __ x _

Before he could start a full-blown analysis of what Imogen's random 'x' meant, he pulled a relatively clean pair of black skinny jeans from his wardrobe, along with his favourite jumper. Changing in record time, he set himself the immense task of finding his converse. Last time he'd seen them, he was trying to impress a posh girl from his old school. The stuck-up bitch didn't show up and he had to take the shortcut home, trekking over a field in the vicious rain. The humiliation of that night was burnt into his memory and he threw the shoes under his bed in a rage. Imogen wasn't like that though, she wouldn't let him down.

Connor was downstairs, watching the clock, regretting telling Imogen he'd meet her at half 5. It was currently 4.30, there was still no sign of Christine and he was climbing the walls. If he asked Imogen to come earlier, he would only look too enthusiastic, but he really wanted to be out of the house before his mum got back. After what he'd said in class today, he was pretty sure she wouldn't be too pleased with him. Unluckily for him, though, as he walked into the kitchen, Christine was stumbling through the door. Clearly intoxicated, swaying where she stood, she eyed him suspiciously.

"Where do you think you're going?" she slurred, her accent becoming even thicker when she was under the influence.

"Out." Connor really wasn't in the mood for her. He'd just text Scout and ask for Imogen's number, then ask her to meet him a bit earlier. To get out of this house, he'd quite happily risk looking keen.

"I don't think so. Not after your performance today, sunshine. You're grounded."

Connor laughed. "Whatever. You know, it's funny you should call it that."

"What?"

"My 'performance.' That's all life is to you, isn't it? One big show, acting the dedicated teacher and caring mother while hiding your dirty little secret; behind closed doors, you're a vicious drunk who couldn't give a shit about me! Well, you know what? I'm sick of it. I'm not willing to act any longer. Count me out. You need to get your fucking priorities sorted."

A weight lifted of Connors shoulders. He had wanted to tell her a few home truths for a while now, but had never really found the courage. Maybe it was how close he had gotten to Imogen – she had shown him that there was more to life, or maybe, he had just found the strength to stand up for himself at last. Whatever it was, he was not prepared for Christine's retaliation.

Furious at the way her son had spoken to her, mixed with panic that he was going to tell everyone, and the drink played a part, she done something she had never done before, and never wanted to do again. She slapped him. The teenager and the drunk both stood, frozen in shock. Connor never thought his mum would do that, and Christine was appalled at her actions.

"Connor, oh Connor, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry, love."

"Get out of my way." he demanded. Christine moved aside, distraught, struggling to accept the fact that she'd just hit her little boy. What type of monster was she? Sobbing, she did the one thing she was good at – grabbed the vodka and drank away her sorrow.

The door slammed.

**Connor's POV.**

My cheek was faintly stinging. I was trying to ignore it as best as I could, if I ignored it then I could forget that the whole thing happened. But it wasn't as easy as that. She was still my mum and I still loved her, no matter how hard I tried to despise her. I jumped on a bus to town, the knowledge that I was going on a date with Imogen the only thing that was currently keeping me sane.

"Hey." Imogen greeted as I walked over to her. She looked absolutely stunning in black tights, a grey summer dress and a leather jacket, trusty Doc Martens on her feet as always.

I hesitated, wondering if there was still a mark on my face. I didn't want any awkward questions.

"Hi, you look nice." I had never been good at small talk.

"Have you been crying?" Brilliant Connor, you've got yourself an observant one, well done.

"No, I…"

Imogen cut me off. "Why is your cheek red?"

Fuck. I was never a good liar. Change the subject, change the subject, now.

"What do you fancy watching then?"

"Oi! Don't try and change the subject, it doesn't work with me. What's happened to your face? I do actually care about you, you know. Has someone hit you?"

She cares about me. Wow, didn't see that one coming. Do you know what, I am not covering for that stupid cow any longer – she doesn't love me so why should I do anything for her? I could trust Imogen not to tell anyone.

"Listen, I'm going to tell you something about my mum. But you have to promise not to tell anyone. It's important that no-one else finds out. Okay?"

Here goes nothing…


	5. First Date

4.

**Imogen's POV. **

There I was, perched on the wall outside of the cinema, listening to a boy I've not known for long but really, really liked, spill his heart out to me. I was listening intently, sometimes in disbelief. From my English lessons, I'd come to the conclusion that Mrs Mulgrew was a brilliant teacher, if a little bad-tempered and condescending when she didn't get her own way. But from what Connor was telling me, it looked like I couldn't be more wrong.

"Ever since I can remember, she's drank. I can't stand it any longer. In two years, right, it's time for us to go to Uni, isn't it? I've always been there to pick up the pieces when she got herself in a state or messed something up and I refuse to spend my time at Uni worrying whether she choked on her own sick in the night, whether I'm going to get that call to say she's dead from an overdose or alcoholic poisoning!"

I noticed Connor's voice cracking a little, and I gently linked my hand in his. We sat there like that for what felt like hours, content with our little friendship. I'd never felt that way about a boy before. I'd always just kept myself to myself, not bothering with relationships. I'd listen to my friends drone on about how she cried herself to sleep the night before because her new boyfriend had cheated on her, or going with them to the chemists while they bought emergency pregnancy tests. I didn't see why they would put themselves through that for the sake of a stupid boy. But now, with Connor, I'd quite happily put myself through it.

"You don't have to tell me all this, you know."

"No, I do. I feel like I can tell you anything, no lies, no secrets. Funny, eh? How close you can feel to someone… anyway, today when I was asking her all those questions in English, I knew it was winding her up. That's why I did it. I wanted her to feel under pressure, that's her weakness. If she's under pressure, she will reach for the vodka bottle. I really want her to get caught, but I don't want to leave."

"Would you have to leave?"

"More than likely; I've been to at least 3 schools since I turned 13. It's a grade A mistake, isn't it, drinking around kids. You're meant to be setting an example and all that shit."

We stayed silent for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. Greenock town is full of mentalists this time of night – we saw a drunken homeless man searching the bins for scraps of food, a young couple laughing and joking, and in contrast, an older couple arguing ferociously. I loved people watching. Sometimes, when I'm feeling down, I just sit on a bench and watch the world go by. There's a massive world out there, things to be seen and people to meet. Yet, here I was, 16 years old and stuck in one corner of one town of one country of one planet. Embarrassingly, I'd totally forgotten I was with someone. I shook myself out of my daydream and asked the question he probably didn't want to answer.

"Why did she hit you?"

Connor was visibly uncomfortable.

"As I was leaving to come and meet you, she staggered in, shouting the odds and telling me I was going nowhere, I'm grounded after English. We started arguing as usual, I said some things which probably were quite out of order – but she needed to hear them. I suppose she just lost her temper. It was a shock, though. I mean, I've always known what a manipulative, twisted bitch she can be but I never thought she'd do that. I left her crying in the kitchen. I stormed out, and came here."

I felt an odd sense of satisfaction that instead of running off to Kevin's, or sitting in a park by himself to clear his head, he wanted to see me.

Smiling up at him, I tried to reassure him.

"I'm pretty sure she'll be distraught, you know. She'll be at home, and from what you've told me I can only assume drowning her sorrows, she'll be devastated and she'll think you hate her."

"I don't hate her. No matter how hard I try, I just can't."

"That's because she's your mum! You'll always love her no matter what she throws at you. Now, for god sake, enough of the self-pity, man! I didn't drag myself here for the good of my health. They're playing The Shining in 3D, fancy it?"

**Connor's POV**

"That's because she's your mum! You'll always love her no matter what she throws at you. Now, for god sake, enough of the self-pity, man! I didn't drag myself here for the good of my health. They're playing The Shining in 3D, fancy it?"

I'd never been one to think before I act. Actions may have consequences but I never really consider them. That was my philosophy, so recklessly; I pulled Imogen so she was standing, wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her, delicately. Her lips were gorgeously soft, and we stayed like that for what felt like hours. As we broke apart, I noticed she was smiling. Thank god, I thought.

"What was that for?" she laughed, her emerald eyes sparkling like newly polished jewels.

"You're amazing. You always know the right thing to say… and I really, really like you. I mean, if you don't feel the same way that's fine but…"

"Connor! Shut up! I really like you too, I thought that was obvious. You're the loveliest boy I've ever met. Now, can we PLEASE go in? I'm freezing!"

Feeling happier than I had in a long time, we walked into the cinema hand in hand. Nothing could bring my mood down tonight.

After a few hours, the young teenagers left the cinema. Considering they'd just seen one of the scariest films of all time, they looked on top of the world. Imogen was in the middle of hitting Connor with popcorn, while the newly carefree boy laughed like he'd never laughed before.

"You know, it might just be another one of my bad ideas but if you don't want to go home tonight, you could always stay over at mine? My mum's away on some fitness course, she wouldn't mind anyway."

Imogen was nervously awaiting his reply – there was no strings to her offer, they had kissed and they were getting on like a house on fire but she just wanted him to be happy.

"Yeah… okay. Sounds good to me."

"I have one condition though."

"Yeah?"

"You text your mum and let her know where you are. She'll be panicking, especially after what happened."

Connor sighed. "Sometimes, I wish you weren't so nice."

Giggling, Imogen punched him lightly on the arm, and they jumped on the bus back to Imogen's house.


	6. Some Things Can't Be Fixed

5.

Morning came and Connor was woken by Imogen's mum waving a cup of tea in his face. Turns out, Sally Stewart was back from her fitness course early, and although she had no problem with Connor sleeping over, she was quite welcoming actually, but she made it clear that he would have to sleep on the sofa. Sally and Imogen were the epitome of opposite – Sally was very health and image conscious, with her voluptuous blonde curls and red lipstick. She was lovely, though, if a bit in your face at times. He sat upright on their sofa, which was surprisingly comfortable.

"Thanks. Oh, and, er, thanks for letting me stay last night." Connor smiled, accepting the warm brew. He could turn on the charm when he wanted.

"No worries, anytime!"

Connor watched as she danced away, each step as if she were walking on clouds. The first thing he noticed about this house was how homely it was. He honestly couldn't imagine a morning as casual and relaxed as this, too used to having his mum bang on his door shouting at him to 'get up now' and then finding her in the kitchen refuelling herself with drink, as if filling a car with petrol. Suddenly, he remembered Imogen's 'one condition' – to tell his mum where he was. Yeah, he hadn't. Reaching into his jeans pocket, he pulled out his battered old phone.

8 Missed Calls – Mum

New Text Message – _Where the hell are you?_

There was a lot of texts, mainly consisting of Christine questioning his whereabouts, some saying he was grounded for longer for making her worry and the rest were just pleas to come home. As much as he didn't want to face her at the moment, he really needed to go home and get his uniform and books for school.

"Morning!" Imogen wandered into the living room, snapping Connor out of his thoughts.

"Hey." _Why does it feel so awkward_? Connor thought. "Listen, erm, I'm going to have to, like, make a quick exit. I need to get back to mine before school starts, for my uniform and that." _Wow_, _I sound like such a prick. _

Imogen nodded, understanding. "Right… well. I'll see you at school, then, yeah?"

"Yeah." Pulling on his jacket, he ran a hand through his wild black hair in a feeble attempt to tame it, and walked to the door, pausing only to turn around and look at the girl who had become so important to him in the last couple of weeks. "Oh, and erm, thanks for letting me stay and you know, listening to me."

Connor left swiftly and sped up the road towards the bus stop, leaving a confused Imogen feeling a little bit used.

At home, Christine was panicking, gulping down the alcohol to calm her nerves and to stop her imagination running wild. In the past couple of hours, every scenario possible had run through her mind concerning Connor's whereabouts. Deep down, she knew he probably stayed at a mate's house, not wanting to face her after what happened. Deep down, she knew it was all her fault. He would be out there somewhere, thinking his own mother hates him. Worried and upset, Christine packed her trusty half-litre vodka bottle into her handbag, called Connor once more and reluctantly made her way into work, hoping with all her heart that he would turn up to school.

Unbeknownst to her, Connor was watching the house from the end of the street, waiting until Christine left to avoid another confrontation. When he got in, he showered quicker than he had ever showered in his life, pulled on his uniform and made his way to Waterloo Road.

Christine was in the staffroom, alone except for a few teachers who she didn't really know that well. The cup of tea perched in front of her had gone cold, and without the chance to tip her favourite clear liquid into it, it left a bitter taste in her mouth. She was honestly close to pulling her hair out at the thought of not teaching Connor's class until period three, two hours until she would find out whether he was safe or not, and as if the day wasn't bad enough, in walked the person she really didn't want to talk to right now – that posh cow Audrey McFall.

Audrey made a beeline for Christine before she could make a sharp exit.

"Christine, can I have a word?"

_Oh no. _"It's about Connor." Christine's ears pricked up at that point, having not really been interested in what she had to say beforehand. "It's nothing to worry about really. It's just that he truanted from Maths this morning. Tom caught him and Kevin Skelton having a kick-about round near the Sports block. They're in the cooler now. Just thought I should let you know."

Audrey could have said he was caught smoking and she wouldn't have minded. Right now, she was just focusing on the fact that he was safe and in school.

"Oh… ok, thanks for letting me know. I'll have a word." It was as if someone had actually injected relief into Christine's system. Her mind at rest, she made her way to her next lesson.

Imogen was still wondering about how Connor had acted this morning. She always over-analysed things in her head – 'making a mountain out a molehill' her mum called it. But there was something weird about the way Connor couldn't wait to get out of there. Imogen mentally cursed herself for offering to let him stay the night. _I knew it was too soon, _she thought, _I've just messed it up with the nicest boy on the planet, well done, great work. _Becoming increasingly paranoid and anxious about the state of her friendship/relationship with Connor, Imogen walked to English, looking forlorn.

"Hello again." Connor laughed, taking his usual place next to Imogen at the back the class, careful to avoid his mother's gaze.

Imogen mumbled a quiet 'hey' in response.

"What's up with you? You look like you've just been told you've got a week to live or something."

Imogen was silent.

"Oh, god. You haven't actually just been told you've got a week to live, have you?"

Brightening at his stupidity, Imogen giggled, punching him lightly on the arm.

"You've really got to stop doing that. I'm getting bruises! It's not good for my reputation you know."

"What reputation?" asked Imogen, now back to her usual self. Once again, Connor knew all the right things to say.

"I'm pretty feared out there, I'll have you know. If you ever get attacked right, or mugged or something, just say my name and they will run away crying. I'm telling you. I'm pretty known for my sharp right hook, so if I'm getting beaten up by a girl, my reputation is going to be in tatters!"

"Shut up, you idiot. You couldn't fight your way out of a wet paper bag!"

In one little conversation, all the awkwardness and doubt from this morning had crept away. They were falling for each other and they didn't know what to do about it…

The lesson passed quickly, Connor and Imogen play-fighting, chatting and friendly insulting each other. At one point, Imogen commented on the fact that Mrs Mulgrew hadn't told them to shut up, telling Connor it was probably because she wanted to get on his good side again.

"You should go and talk to her." she urged when the bell for lunch went.

"Don't be daft. I told you, I don't want to talk to her. Not now, not ever."

"You can't ignore her forever!"

"I can try."

Shaking her head, Imogen wandered off aimlessly. She was going to meet Scout and Dynasty, as Connor had detention for missing Maths this morning. Unluckily for him though, his attempt of a sharp exit was ruined by Christine.

"Connor? Can I have a word?"

"Erm… no."

"It was more of a rhetorical question. You really should pay attention in class."

"Whatever. Look, can it wait? I have to get to detention."

"Oh, yes, I heard about your little escapade with Mr Skelton this morning."

Connor rolled his eyes, biting his tongue so as not to start shouting the place down. There was always the possibility of saying something he really would regret.

"As it happens, no, it can't wait! Where the hell where you last night?" Christine was losing her patience with him now. She shouldn't have done what she did (she couldn't even articulate it in her head, she was too disgusted in herself) but he was still in trouble for staying out all night.

"Do you care?" Connor asked, genuinely interested.

"Of course I care! You had me going out of my mind with worry!"

"Why?"

"Why, what?"

"Why do you care, all of a sudden? Seriously, I'm interested. Like, was it because I threatened to tell someone about your drinking? You weren't worried about me, you were worried I would spill your secret!"

Connor was getting angry again. Last night at the cinemas with Imogen was perfect, and here he was, back to arguing with his stupid drunk of a mother. If this was his reality, then he didn't want to be real.

"That is not true, Connor! Now, we're both in the wrong here. But, please, can't we just forget about it?" she said, moving towards him. "I'll live to regret what I did to you for the rest of my life." Christine cupped Connors face with her hand. "You're my little boy… so let's not fight, ey?"

Refusing to be manipulated by her, Connor pushed her hand away.

"Just leave me alone."

Connor left, already pining for the moment when he could pull out his trusty lighter and burn something. Burn his problems away.


	7. Who's There?

**AN: **Sorry this is only short, I haven't had much time but I wanted to upload something. Next chapter will be longer. Cheers for reading!

6.

**Connor's POV. **

Falling in and out of consciousness with my eyes closed and my head on the table, I could vaguely hear my mum rabbiting on at Scout because she hadn't brought her copy of To Kill A Mockingbird with her. She turned on Imogen next, who was sat right next to me.

"What about you then? Do you have yours with you?" Mum asked my girlfriend (of two weeks, it's official!) Imogen explained all about how her bag was too full after last lesson, she couldn't shut her bag properly so she didn't realise when the book fell out and landed straight into the snow. All the pages got wet and it was ruined.

"Wow. I might not put you in detention on the basis of that lie. It's the most imaginative I've heard all year. Maybe if you put as much effort into your school work as you do your excuses, you might have a chance of passing English. Same goes for the rest of you!"

I was next for the interrogation.

"Connor, what about you? You really don't have an excuse."

I genuinely was half asleep, not just ignoring her (okay maybe I was a little) and I didn't even acknowledge that she'd spoken until I felt a sharp pain in my ribs. Imogen was nudging me, trying to wake me up. When I opened my eyes I was in that horrible confused state that you get just after you wake up, sometime not knowing where you are, just for a second.

"Ow! Was there any need?" I moaned at my girlfriend, not realising everyone in the class was staring at me. Cringing, I gazed over at mum and said a bit too snappily, "What?"

"Ah, now that you're back in the land of the living, is there any point me even asking if you've got your book with you?"

Our relationship was still frosty and we'd hardly spoken for weeks. It was getting to the point where I only actually spoke to her if I had to, like now.

"Erm…. No."

"Right, well, that's you in detention with Scout, Imogen and the rest of you who clearly have no intention whatsoever of passing your exams."

I rolled my eyes at her. I didn't understand how one person could be so mind-numbingly annoying all the time.

"Whatever." I mumbled.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me." She was starting to get right on my nerves now, and I was so tempted just to grab my stuff and walk out.

"You want to be careful, young man, or I'll have you in detention for the rest of the week."

Sitting upright and crossing my arms, I asked "What makes you think I care? Like, seriously, I'm interested. Because, truth be told, I couldn't care less about your books, or your lessons, for that matter."

My mother narrowed her eyes at me, glaringly, a clear sign that I'd won. She wouldn't want the argument to carry on in case I said something she wouldn't want everyone to hear.

"Cooler, now."

"Gladly!" I shouted, already on my way.

**Christine's POV. **

It was lunchtime and I was having my favourite type, liquid. Having not spoken to Connor since our little argument that morning, and sufficiently consumed enough vodka to function properly this afternoon, I decided to make my way down to the cooler. As I stood up, though, there was a knock on my classroom door – it was Connor.

He entered casually, clearly not wanting to talk to me.

"Before you start, I'm not here because I want to be, I'm here because Imogen threatened to ignore me until I apologised for this morning… so, you know, I'm sorry. If you see her, tell her I said it, will you."

Amused at the way he literally had to force himself to apologise to me, I tried to supress my smile.

"Well… Imogen was right. What was all that about? I don't know what's going on with you but you really need to stop taking it out on me!" I didn't want to ignite yet another argument, but I needed to talk to him properly, and if that sparked another shouting match, then so be it.

"You don't know what's going on with me? Seriously? It's you! You're doing my head in!"

"And why might that be?"

"You haven't spoken to me for weeks! As if I'm the one in the wrong! You caused this, not me, remember? You caused this, like you always cause it. I'm sick of it. You're just a bitch who I happen to share a house and surname with."

If only he knew the extent of my guilt. I knew I'd traumatised him for life with my drinking, but he needed to understand that I couldn't just turn it on and off like a tap. I loved him more than anything in the world, but it just wasn't enough. I was too dependent now.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that!"

"What are you going to do, hit me again?" Connor shouted, loud enough for anyone to hear.

"Keep your voice down, someone will hear!"

And in the next couple of moments, I felt like my whole world had come crashing down around me.

"Too late."

Somebody had been listening to us outside of my room. Shit, I thought. Shit, shit, shit. Connor looked visibly shocked. I knew he didn't want anyone to hear, it's not like he shouted it on purpose. We both looked at each other, panic-stricken.

I felt violently sick, wondering who had heard what I'd done to Connor… and as if they had read my mind, in walked our eavesdropper.


	8. Decision Time

6.

"So, Miss, you're a child abuser. I wonder what Byrne would have to say about that." A gorgeously strong Liverpudlian accent danced through the room. Barry Barry, Waterloo Road's new bad boy, entered. He was ruggedly good-looking, and had girls swooning with his seductive accent and delinquent ways. Even Imogen admitted to Connor that she wouldn't say no, which only fuelled Connor's fury when he realised it was Barry who had been listening. Connor and Christine were completely speechless; what were they supposed to say to a boy who would more than likely turn out to be a total sociopath in future who also now happened to know that Christine had hit Connor?

**Connor's POV. **

It really is just my luck that I finally say what I've wanted to say to my mum for weeks and the local scumbag hears. She'll blame me for that as well, just like she blames me for everything. I didn't even shout it that loud; he must have been stood outside of the door. Everyone was silent for a couple of minutes, Barry smirking proudly like a child who'd finally got the toy he'd been begging his parents for.

"You're not going to tell Mr Byrne, Barry. You're not going to tell anyone." My mum spoke, calmly. I could just tell she was going use her biggest talent, manipulation, to get us out of this mess.

Barry just chuckled, quite menacingly. If I could fight without looking like a drowning dog, he'd be first in line.

"You're right, Miss, I'm not. I won't tell Byrne… if you change mine and our Dynasty's coursework marks to A's." His threats were pretty poor, by Barry standards.

Mum laughed. "Are you threatening me?"

"I'm blackmailing you."

"Well, it's a very, very bad attempt. There are plenty of flaws in your plan, you see. Firstly, unlike you, your sister has brains, and she is already getting A's; like I said, you're not going to tell Mr Byrne."

"Why are you so sure?"

"It happened outside of school, therefore, he has no jurisdiction, and, more importantly, you have no proof."

Jesus, as much as I didn't want to admit it, she was good. Barry's face contorted into fury as he realised his attempt at blackmail had been foiled by a teacher.

"It was worth a shot. I don't need good grades anyway."

"Yeah, prisons don't care about A-Levels." I piped up.

Barry scowled at me. "You're funny, you, aren't ya?" Walking to towards the door, he paused before leaving. "Just so you know, I care less about what goes on between you two than I do my A-Levels." Pointing at me, he whispered threateningly, "You're a little prick, anyway. Watch your back." And he left, leaving me and mum shocked and silent.

**Christine's POV. **

I'd disliked that Barry family since they arrived. Don't get me wrong, Dynasty Barry had a natural intelligence, and seemed like a nice girl, if a little fiery, and I hadn't taught the youngest yet. But the mother, Carol, was the epitome of rough, and mine and Connor's little confrontation with Barry cemented my view that they were trouble. The eldest Barry had just left my classroom after trying and failing to blackmail me, and my hand was twitching towards the vodka in my bag. Connor was here though, and it would only kick things off again. I'd forgotten he was there, until I heard him whisper "For fuck sake." under his breath more than likely out of relief.

"Oi, stop swearing. It doesn't suit you." He had his head in his hands. "What's the matter with you now? He's not going to tell anyone and even if he does, it's not like I'll get sacked or anything."

As he looked up, I noticed his vast blue eyes were full of worry.

"No, you're wrong. He's not going to tell any teachers but he's going to tell everyone else and then I'll be the talk of the school and it'll be embarrassing and Imogen fancies him and I just hate him, ugh."

"Oh… I see."

"What?"

"You're jealous of him."

"Are you mental? I can't stand him."

"You're jealous because Imogen fancies him. Aww, well, take it from me. You've got nothing to worry about, you're way more handsome."

I could see him squirming at that comment, and as I tried not to laugh, the bell went, signalling the end of lunch and the start of next period.

"Eugh, shut up. You have to say that anyway, you're my mum. I've got to go." he mumbled, and I could definitely see the faintest hints of a smile tugging away at the corner of his mouth. Maybe, just maybe, we were making progress.

An hour later, and I was teaching a lesson on the torturously boring book, Twilight. It wasn't on the syllabus but one every month I let the class choose a book to analyse. I found that if they're interested they listen more, and apply the skills they've learnt to the actual books in the exam. Some people would say that it is literature blasphemy, as an English teacher, to genuinely hate a book, but this was just unrepentant drivel. Luckily, the lesson went fast and as soon as I dismissed the class, sure that every student was gone and they weren't going to pop back for a forgotten bag or pencil case, I poured myself a deserving vodka into my mug. My hand shaking from withdrawal, I lifted it to my lips… and stopped. No, do you know what? No. Not anymore. I placed the mug back down onto my desk.

Today, Barry Barry, a notorious bad boy, was so close to finding out about my alcoholism. Everyone could have found out. That was way too close for comfort for me, and all the bitching and arguing with Connor over the last couple of weeks, was it all worth it in the end? No.

It would be hard, but I'd made my decision.

I was going to stop drinking, for good.


	9. Withdrawal

7.

**Connor's POV.**

I pulled on my wrecked converse, turning the TV up even louder to block out the noise of my mum retching in the bathroom upstairs. Today, after the whole Barry escapade, she came into my Science lesson where I was chatting to Kevin, not listening to Mrs Diamond. I didn't really like her; she seemed like a stuck-up, pretentious cow. Mum asked her if she could have a word with me and of course, she said yes. My mum led me to her car, telling me to get in as she needed to talk to me about something important.

"What could be so important that you feel the need to jeopardise my A-Level classes?" I said, breaking the ice.

"Oh, shut up, you weren't listening anyway. You're going to like what I have to say."

Interested, but not letting her know that, I unenthusiastically said "Go on, then."

Mum laughed a nervous chuckle.

"Things have been… a little, hard lately. We've been rowing and everything, and after today with Barry I've decided you're right. Enough is enough."

"What?" I asked, bewildered. It was getting close to 3'oclock and I'd told Kevin that I'd walk home with him.

"You're right. It's time I laid off the booze for a bit, for our sake if anything else. It was too close for comfort today, and it's just not worth it anymore. It will be hard, though, so you'll have to bear with me, but I promise, I am serious this time."

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth, but determined to supress it; I mumbled "Right, well, good, I'm glad." I genuinely was pleased that she'd made the decision to stop, but after years of experience, I'd learned to take what she said with a pinch of salt.

My mum just looked at me, and I could see that she was scared. I wanted to give her a hug, and tell her everything was going to be okay, but we were as both as stubborn as each other and no-one wanted to give in the fight first. After a few moments silence, we both noticed that the home-time bell must have gone. Hoards of students, excitedly rushing home after a long day at school, piled out of Waterloo Road, oblivious to the weird, life-changing day me and mum had had.

"Do you want a lift home?" she asked, breaking the silence. "You'll have to wait a bit, though; I've got some things to do."

"No, it's fine, I'll walk. See you later." I got out of the car and went to meet Kevin; hopefully I'd see Imogen on the way. We hadn't really seen each other much today.

No matter how much I turned it up, the TV wasn't blocking out the ugly noise from upstairs. It's not something a son wants to hear, really. I know being sick is just a natural thing, but I couldn't stand it. I pulled out my phone and quickly tapped out a text to Imogen.

_Hey I'll be there in ten just have to check if mum is okay first x_

We had planned to go to some obscure indie band's gig at the town hall, but realising we had about 20p between us, decided against it, opting to watch a film at Imogen's house. It would be nice, just the two of us. The longer I waited to set off though, the guiltier I felt about leaving mum in the state she was in. I'd looked after her all my life, making sure she doesn't choke on her own sick when she passed out on the sofa, or leading her up the stairs and making sure she was in bed safely – what type of son would I be if I let her down when she needed me the most?

"Mum, are you okay?" I shouted from the bottom of the stairs. She appeared at the top, looking rougher than I'd ever seen her, and I'd seen her with plenty of hangovers before. Her hair was matted and wet, I assumed from sweating, and she looked like she could burst into tears at any moment. Despite her best efforts to hide them from me by pulling up the sleeves on her jumper, her hands were shaking violently. _Withdrawal symptoms_, I thought, _i__t's normal. _I was never good at the whole 'reassuring myself' thing. "Are you… okay?"

Mums words were quiet, and she spoke as if she had to force herself to articulate sentences. "I'm fine. Don't you worry about me."

"Are you sure? I mean, I don't want to be horrible but you really don't look it… do you want me to stay in tonight?"

"Thanks son, but no, you go out and enjoy yourself. Go on, I won't take no for an answer." I could tell each word required effort. Maybe I should call a doctor? "I'll be okay; I'm just going to go to sleep. Go on. Don't be home too late though! I will find out if you're later than ten."

"I'm only going to Imogen's… I can put her off-"

"Connor! Just go. I'll be fine! Stop worrying."

Less than reassured, I reluctantly mumbled a goodbye and set off towards my girlfriend's house, freezing cold in the bitter January air. _She'll be okay_, I thought, _think about it, she's always okay._ I couldn't have been more wrong.

I arrived at Imogen's, eyes watering slightly because of the wind, and knocked on her door nervously, even though we'd been together for a couple of weeks and I felt completely comfortable around her. She answered, and the first thing I noticed was how beautiful she looked. Her thick dark hair was curled and she wore a slight bit of makeup, making it look natural. She was wearing an oversized jumper and black tights, with a burgundy cardigan over – she was just perfect.

"Hey, come in." She invited, casually. "My mum is out tonight so we won't have to put up with her shit!" Imogen didn't really get on with her mum, and I never really understood that, because compared to mine, Sally Stewart was a saint.

"She's not that bad." I laughed.

"Oh she is. She keeps trying to make me wear tight dresses and buying me heels. Like, can you imagine me in a pair of heels? I'd fall over and make a tit out of myself." Imogen was rambling on, leading me upstairs to her bedroom. "So, how are you anyway? You seem a bit quiet."

"Guess what?" I said.

"What?"

"Mum stopped drinking. Well, she says she's going to."

"Well, that's good, isn't it? You're getting what you wanted!" Imogen always looked to the bright side.

"Yeah, and I'm chuffed, don't get me wrong, but as I left tonight she was throwing up and she basically looked like shit. I offered to stay in but she told me to come. I'm just worried now."

Imogen smiled. "You're too nice, do you know that? It's just withdrawal symptoms, she'll be fine, I promise you." She kissed me on the cheek, before jumping up from the bed and changing the subject tactfully. "What d'ya want to watch then?" she asked, in that thick Scottish voice.

"You choose." To be honest, I wasn't in the mood, and we'd only spend most of the film talking anyway. "Surprise me." I grinned.

She spent at least 10 minutes choosing, but eventually settled on a film called This Is England. It was about a young lad who joins a group of racist skinheads. _Nice_, I thought. We lay in her bed for a while, comfortably silent. I thought about how quickly Imogen had come to mean the world to me, how I loved to be in her company; I never wanted to lose her. My arm was slung around her and she rested her head on my chest. If I was honest, I couldn't remember the last time I felt this happy.

"He's hot." Imogen randomly piped up, pointing to the TV where the main character, Woody, was topless.

"Oh, charming." I joked, feigning hurt.

"He is though! I bet you fancy her." On the screen was another character, Smell.

"Wow. No way, she looks like a gremlin."

I suddenly remembered the conversation me, Imogen, Scout and Phoenix had in art today. Phoenix was going on about sex and stuff, and Scout, as usual, made him look like a prick by regaling us with tales of their past. I felt really awkward, as I didn't want Imogen to feel like I was going to pressure her into anything. She meant more to me than that.

"Listen…" I continued, "What Phoenix was saying today in art… we don't have to, you know. There's no pressure, I'm not a dick."

She looked up at me. "I know. But… would you think any less of me if I wanted to? I mean, you wouldn't think I was a slag… and if we had protection and stuff."

There was nothing I hated more than awkward conversations. I just smiled at her, and gently leant forward, kissing her.

A couple of hours later, I woke to the sound of the most irritating DVD menu ever, and I blearily searched the bed for my phone. 10.15. _Shit_, I thought. I hurriedly climbed out of the bed, pulling on my jacket haphazardly, and then grabbing a piece of paper from Imogen's desk.

_I had to go didn't want to wake you see you tomorrow love u x _

I contemplated scribbling out the 'love u' part. Maybe it was too soon? I was in too much of a rush to get home though, so, careful not to wake her up, I switched off her TV and let myself out of her house.

As I made my way up the path to our house, I couldn't help but feel a bit guilty for leaving Imogen without saying bye. I left a note though, so that makes up for it, doesn't it? I was still getting used to this whole boyfriend thing. I found my key and quietly unlocked and opened the door, finding the one thing that I didn't want to find: my mum, lying unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Sickening flashbacks of the 6 year old me popped into my mind. I was a scared little boy then, and to be honest, I was just as frightened now. I pulled out my phone, hands shaking, and dialled 999.


	10. Alone

AN: Thank you for reading and the reviews I really appreciate it! I'm not too sure if all the hospital speak in this chapter is right, but I am not a doctor! Haha, but yeah, thanks again for reading. X

9.

Connor was alone in the hospital's 'family room'. He must have fallen asleep, as the last time he'd checked the clock it was midnight, and it now said 6.20 am. After he'd called the ambulance, they rushed Christine away and told him little more than that they were doing 'tests', that he should wait in this claustrophobic little room, and they'd get information to him as soon as possible. They also asked if he had any relatives he could call, but he had no family, or none that he knew of. He had his mum; it had always been that way. No matter how many arguments they had, it was always the two of them. There was Imogen now though, but there was no way Connor would burden her with this. The worried 16 year old put his hand in his jacket pocket, retrieving the red lighter that he depended on so much. Fire was his comfort blanket, and oh how he needed some comfort right now. Just as he was about to make his way outside and find the nearest pile of leaves, a middle-aged male doctor entered.

"Are you Connor Mulgrew?"

Connor jumped up straight away, stuffing the lighter back in his pocket and listening intently to the doctor, desperate to know what was going on.

"Y-yeah, that's me. Is my mum okay?"

"Am I right in assuming your mum consumes large amounts of alcohol on a day to day basis?"

"She's an alcoholic, yeah. Why?" Connor was getting frustrated; all he wanted to know was whether she was okay, alive even.

"And that she has stopped, quite recently?"

"Yeah, yesterday she decided to quit. Why? What is this? Can you just tell me what's going on please?"

"Mr Mulgrew, it seems your mother's body has suffered a reaction from the shock of abstinence. We are still running tests but she is now in a stable condition and we think that the risk of any further damage has been subsided. However, she has suffered a head injury; therefore we are assuming that she fainted at the top of the stairs and fell down. It would explain the injury and why you found her at the bottom. It doesn't pose a risk at the moment, but we will keep it monitored."

Connor let the information soak in; if anything happened, he would never forgive himself for going out. Maybe if he had stayed in, even if the fall was inevitable, maybe he could've rang the ambulance earlier. God knows how long she was there while he was asleep with his girlfriend. Guilt spread through his body as if someone had injected it directly into his blood. Deep down he knew it wasn't his fault, it was a natural reaction to the loss of alcohol, but still, he was devastated.

"Oh, right. Well… is that good? I mean, it doesn't sound good but there won't be any… permanent damage will there?"

"At this moment in time, the head injury poses no danger. She may be asleep for the next hour or so, and we will be able to get a clearer picture of the extent of the damage then. Feel free to go in and see her. Is there anyone you would like us to call?"

"No, no, like I said I have no family, really, or no-one I can call – you said she'd be asleep for the next few hours… will I have time to go to my school and tell them what's happened? She's an English teacher there, so they'll need to know."

"That's fine. If she does wake while you're gone, we'll let her know where you are."

Connor's eyes stung, partly from tiredness and partly from the thought of this whole stupid mess. "Have you got my number too? In case anything happens, you know."

"We have all the details that we need. Don't worry; your mother is in the best place."

Not feeling as reassured as the doctor had hoped, Connor gave him a grateful smile.

X

"Grantly, I'll need you to cover Christine's classes this morning. She better have a good excuse for this." Mr Byrne, the head-teacher told the grumpy English teacher.

Grantly Budgen looked up resentfully from the morning paper. "If she ever materializes." he mumbled. For Grantly, there was nothing worse than being given extra classes to teach because of someone else's own lack of punctuality. The staffroom was gradually emptying, the lucky teachers with free periods first thing making themselves a fresh cup of tea or coffee, and the others gulping down the remnants of theirs, before making their way to their lessons. Christine normally sat wherever she could, not making much conversation and definitely not letting anyone take her cup – she always insisted on washing it herself, for if anyone smelt the vodka that she sneakily poured into her tea, she'd be caught out. Losing her job was Christine's worst fear. Mr Byrne was about to leave for a meeting with Sian and Tom, when there was a knock at the door.

"Sir, I was wondering if I could have a word… it's important." Connor nervously asked Mr Byrne. He knew he was going to have to skate around the truth a bit.

"Sure, just give me a minute. Are you okay? You don't look well – and where is your uniform? And your mother for that matter?"

"That's what I need to talk to you about. There's been an accident."

Unbeknownst to Connor, recently Michael and Christine had grown closer. He didn't know about her alcoholism, obviously, but they knew they were both pretty damaged people who were good for each other. As soon as he heard the word accident, he panicked, realising how much he did actually care for the woman.

"Is everything okay? What kind of accident?" Michael ushered Connor into the staffroom, where the rest of the teachers were in earshot. A few of them, Mrs McFall especially, noticed how roughly pale Connor looked, and tried to listen in without being obvious.

"Last night… I came home from Imogen's house and I just found her lying at the bottom of the stairs, unconscious." He was trying his best not to cry but his throat was tightening. "I called an ambulance, and they're running tests. She's still unconscious… I need to get back… they're running tests right now but… I just thought I'd better let you know, she won't be in."

A sudden pang of guilt swept through Michael, as he remembered his earlier comment about Christine needing a good excuse. He noticed the boy growing more and more agitated and upset as his explanation went on.

"Jesus… thanks for letting us know. You could have just called, but thanks. Do you need a lift back to the hospital? I'm sure we could find someone to take you."

Audrey McFall had always worried about that boy. She knew just how manipulative and slightly evil Christine could be at times, and despaired at the impact all those lies would have on Connor. He was an intelligent boy, on target for an A* in History. She piped up. "I'll take you. I'm not teaching til 11."

Surprised at how nice his mum's colleagues were being, it took him a few moments to realise what Ms McFall had offered. "What? Oh, no thanks… I need to go home and grab some stuff. Thanks though." He turned to Mr Byrne. "Am I okay to stay off today? I'll get the work and stuff-"

He was cut off. "Connor! It's fine, of course it's fine. Now if you're sure you don't want a lift, you'd best get off. I'm sure Christine will want you there when she wakes up."

Connor nodded gently, and smiled at his teachers warmly. He never expected them to be so understanding and calm about the whole thing. He made his way out of the staffroom, and back home to get changed. As he left, Audrey said "Poor boy." and Michael, genuinely concerned, whispered wistfully "Poor Christine."

X

Back at the hospital after getting changed, brushing his teeth, charging his phone and grabbing some stuff for his mum that the doctors requested, Connor was reliably informed that they would be waking Christine up in half an hour and that there was no risk of permanent damage. Feeling slightly reassured, he grabbed a watery cup of tea from the machine and went back to the 'family room'. The tea was disgusting and was making him feel slightly sick. Bored, and looking for something to take his mind of things, he decided to text Imogen.

_Hi beautiful sorry I left without saying goodbye last night. You probably won't have heard but Mum's in hospital so I won't be in today. She's fine I think, still unconscious though. Just waiting in the hospital now, bored haha x _

Just as he remembered that students at Waterloo Road had to hand their phones in first thing on a morning, he was surprised to see his phone flash.

_I overheard Mr Byrne talking about your mum to Mrs Diamond so I kept my phone ;) I was just about to text you. Are you okay? I bet you're so worried! x_

Smiling at how lovely she was to risk detention for his sake, he quickly tapped out his reply.

_They're waking her up in a while so it's all a waiting game really. They said it was a reaction to the sudden no alcohol thing, but don't say anything about that because I obviously couldn't tell the school that. How are you anyway? Risking detention for me __ x _

Luckily Imogen was a quick texter.

_I won't. Oh man I really really hope she's okay! And yep I am, but trust me, you're worth it. P.s I love you too. _

The reference to last night's rash decision to include 'love u' on the note cheered him up considerably. Before he had chance to reply, the doctor from earlier entered.

"Mr Mulgrew? If you'd like to come with us." Connor followed the doctor, feeling a mixture of fear and anticipation.

They arrived at Christine's room. The beeps and whirrs of the hospital equipment was strangely soothing, calming his nerves but also bringing home the seriousness of the situation. On the bed, Christine was sat upright, looking fine except from a large purple bruise on the corner of her forehead. There were all sorts of wires connected to her arms, and when she noticed Connor, she grinned widely.

"Hey" she said, her eyes filling with tears. Christine was delighted to see her son. "How are you, son?"

"How am I? How are you more like? I take my eye off you for five minutes and you end up hospitalised." Connor joked, overcome with relief. All the worry of the past couple of hours had gone, the only thing left was the results of the tests, but that could wait. Everything was going to be okay.

AN: Sorry the next chapter is taking a while! It will be up soon though. X


	11. Do You Want To Know A Secret?

AN: The last chapter that I updated, the one where Kevin asked Connor to go to Barry's party with him... well I deleted it, because I really wasn't happy with it. So, this is the proper chapter 10! Haha. As always, thanks for reading!

10.

Connor was glancing at the clock every 5 minutes, coming to the conclusion that the day was going so slow purposely to annoy him. He was the most excruciatingly boring lesson of his life; English with his mum. Normally, he didn't mind English, having been brought up on books, finding solace in the words when times got hard, which they inevitably did, but today it seems his mum had got lazy as she'd stuck a DVD on. Not even an entertaining one though; it was the modernised version of Romeo and Juliet. The girls loved it – the traditional, tragic love story and Leonardo DiCaprio as Romeo, what more could they want? The boys, on the other hand, just had to pretend that they understood the nonsensical dialogue. Sighing, Connor started to doodle on his book. He didn't even have Imogen to keep him entertained, as she'd somehow managed to fall asleep, head rested awkwardly on Connors arm. His eyes flickered down towards his girlfriend, his lips automatically forming a warm smile. Since they got together, Connor hadn't started a single fire. The urge was there, it always was. He supposed it was what a smoker felt when they needed a cigarette, and it even gave him a little understanding of how hard it must be for his mum not being able to drink anymore. It was the only thing that had stopped him from completely turning his back on her over the past few years. Another impatient look at the clock – it now said 11.55, five minutes till dinner. _Thank god, _he thought, the film becoming more and more tedious as time went on. As if she'd read her sons mind, Christine switched of the film and gesturing for Scout to turn the lights back on. It had been a month since she quit drinking, and the after effects were making her feel incredibly depressed. No longer able to numb the sadness with her trusted anaesthetic, painful memories were now at the forefront of her mind, constantly. She was trying hard not to take it out on the students, it wasn't their fault, but when the lights flickered back on and she saw Imogen sound asleep, and several other kids with their heads on the desk, it really wound her up.

"It was really that boring, was it?" she started, the lazy students sitting up, confusion in their eyes. Connor, sensing Christine's bitchy mood, tried to wake Imogen up as gently as he could. Brushing the stray hair out of her eyes, he whispered "Imogen, wake up, the bells going to go." The young girl opened her eyes, disorientated. Christine bit her tongue, dying to ask her a question about the movie and catch her out, but she knew it would only cause an argument with Connor. He'd already decided Christine didn't like Imogen, but he couldn't understand why.

"Oh my god, my head hurts." Imogen mumbled, self-consciously running her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame the wild bedhead. "What time is it?"

"Dinner, come on." Connor replied, resisting the urge to laugh at his muddled girlfriend, who had now pulled out her hairbrush. "You look lovely, now hurry up!"

Scowling, Imogen reluctantly gathered up her things and followed Connor down to the hall.

X

"What's up with you?" Connor had noticed that Imogen hadn't said a word all lunch. For the past ten minutes, they had sat in silence; Connor watching as Imogen pushed the chips around on her plate, showing no interest in them whatsoever. As he spoke, she looked up at him with eyes sparkling with sadness, or was it fear?

"There's something I need to tell you." Imogen told him, mysteriously.

Connors heart did a backflip. The whole 'we need to talk' thing never ends well. "Okay… go on, then? You're making me worry now!"

"I can't tell you here. It's important, but it could change… everything, you know, between us. Can we meet somewhere tonight?"

"Jesus, Imogen. You can't just leave me in suspense… you can't just say it could change everything between us and then wait till tonight to tell me! Just tell-"

Imogen cut him off, frustrated. "You'll understand… you'll understand when I tell you. It's important to me and I want to do it properly, okay?" She picked up her lunch, and stormed off, irritated, leaving a bewildered Connor worrying about their future.

X

Later that day, Connor was home alone. He assumed his mum was staying late at school, and he still hadn't spoken to Imogen since their altercation at lunch. For some reason, he couldn't get the idea of out his head that Imogen was going to finish with him. He felt bad for thinking that, though. Surely he should trust her enough not to doubt their relationship as quick as he had… but, god, his imagination was doing overtime. He pulled his phone out and opened up his recent messages, clicking Imogen's name.

_Hey. Are we meeting tonight then? X _

Luckily, his girlfriend was a fast replier.

_Sorry for snapping earlier. Of course we are… usual place in 10 minutes? __J X _

Eager to find out this huge secret of hers, Connor tapped out his reply, scrawled 'Out.' onto a piece of paper he'd ripped recklessly from his Maths book, a message for his mum (he couldn't be bothered with all the questions later) and darted off to meet Imogen.

X

The usual place that Imogen mentioned was a romantic little hideout they had discovered whilst walking in the woods one night a few weeks ago. It was a gorgeous patch of privacy; no branches for clumsy teenage girls to trip over, and no thick patches of mud for lanky teenage boys to slip on. A bench sat alone in the middle, perfectly carved as if someone knew that couples would come here to talk, to be in each other's company, to watch the sunset, and to be in love. On this particular evening, the sky was painted violet, with dabs of crimson, and the sun was falling down. Connor had been there for a while now, waiting for Imogen. While he waited, he admired the handiwork of the creator, whoever it was. He thought about the history of this bench; how many people had spent time with a loved one here? How many people had been here for a cry after a fight with a friend, a parent, a boyfriend or a girlfriend? Who created it, and why was it so perfectly suited for Connor and Imogen? He decided it was his favourite place in the world.

"Hey, you." Imogen wandered over dreamily, dressed in her usual unique way – tonight, she opted for ripped black tights, denim shorts covered in various badges, and a dark blue patterned jumper. As always, she looked exquisite.

"Alright." Connor replied, giving her a huge smile, and standing up to kiss her. They stayed in the embrace for a while until eventually they untangled, sitting down on the bench. It was silent for a little while, as they watched the sun set. Imogen spoke first, not knowing quite how to tell Connor what she had wanted to tell him for ages.

"Look… about today-"

"It doesn't matter. There's obviously something on your mind, but you don't have to tell me if you're ready."

"I _want_ to tell you. I _need _to tell you. You deserve to know, and I want our relationship to carry on in the right way, no secrets."

"Okay… well, what is it? You don't have to be secretive with me, you know my biggest one." Connor was referring to the fact that he had confided in Imogen about his mother's alcoholism.

"Do you like me? I mean, do you really like me?"

Connor was taken aback. He thought he'd made his feelings for her pretty clear. "Of course I do. You know I do. You're amazing. Come on, you're worrying me now. You can tell me anything!"

Feeling reassured Imogen calmly tucked her dark hair behind her ears; something she would normally never dream of doing. Her heart beating ten to a dozen, fearful of Connor's reaction would be, she pulled two white hearing aids from her ears. Placing them carefully on her knees, she used her minimal knowledge of sign language to mouth the words:

"I'm deaf."

Connor was silent, and Imogen began to think he wouldn't want her anymore. This type of self-conscious paranoia was the reason she kept her disability a secret in the first place. She placed her aids back in, and now spoke in her normal thick Scottish accent.

"Does it matter?"

Just as he had the night of their first date, Connor acted on impulse. He leant forward, cupped her face gently, and kissed her lovingly. They broke apart, smiling at each other.

"Imogen… you're beautiful, and you're smart, and you're funny and you're all the other clichés that I can't be bothered listening, but they're good clichés. You have helped me in ways I thought impossible. I don't care if you're deaf, Imogen." He took a deep breath, about to make his own little announcement. "I love you."

"I love you, too." The happiness she felt at the moment was so overwhelming, she thought she might cry. "Thank you, though."

"For what?"

"For being so understanding! You're the only person in school who knows, by the way."

"Well, it's better than what I thought you were going to say."

"What do you mean?"

Connor pulled the sleeve of his cardigan over his hand, a habit he'd acquired over the years. He slung his other arm over Imogen's shoulder, pulling her towards him. "To be honest… I thought you were going to finish with me."

Imogen rested her head on Connor's chest, feeling the soft bump of his heartbeat. "You're an idiot."

Connor feigned offence, balling his free hand into a fist and pretending to clutch his heart.

Giggling, Imogen reassured him. "But you're my idiot."

In that moment, it was as if no one else existed. The only thing that mattered was the giggling deaf girl who was snuggled up to the troubled boy – elated and content in their own little world.


	12. We Don't Own Doc Martens

AN: OK. Sorry this is super short and boring, but alas it's just another filler. Swear the next one will be better! Thanks for reading :-)

11.

**Connor's POV.**

After Imogen opened up to me last night, we walked to the beach and watched the stars as they flickered into view, expertly brightening up the deep blue sky. We both agreed that we never wanted this moment to end, and happy in each other's company, we didn't realise the night drawing on. It was silent, and it was lovely, until the unexpected sound of Imogen's message alert made us both jump.

"Connor, its midnight!" Imogen jumped up.

"What? Don't be daft! We've not even been here long." I was confused but way too relaxed to rush around like that.

"We must have fallen asleep, come on, we'll have to get going. My mum is going to kill me." The young girl rambled.

"Imogen, breathe. Just sleep at mine and then in the morning just tell her you fell asleep and forgot to ring her. Sorted!" I was stood up now, and noticing Imogen shivering slightly from the now bitterly cold night air, whipped off my jacket and draped it gently around her shoulders.

"What about your mum?"

I hadn't thought of her. My mum and Imogen had never seen eye to eye, I wasn't sure why, but it was more than likely my mums fear of me getting close to someone and shattering her image into a million pieces. It didn't matter now, though, she was sober, and I was confident that she was going to stick to it this time. "She has no say in the matter, really. She'll probably be in bed and I'll just deal with her questions in the morning. Anyway," We started walking back to my house, hand in hand. "I'll just say you kidnapped me and kept me against my will." Smiling cheekily, I stole a quick kiss on the side of her cheek. When we finally got back to my house, our luck was in. Mum was in bed, and we managed to get in without making any noise. I showed Imogen to my room, and passed her an oversized t-shirt of mine to sleep in.

"It's going to be awkward in the morning." she told me. I reassured her that it would be alright, but deep down I was absolutely dreading it.

X

A light breeze danced into my room through the slightly open window. Under the duvet, Imogen and I slept peacefully, a pile of entangled limbs. I was just waking up as I heard a bang on my door.

"Time to get up, son. If you bothered to come home last night…" Mum shouted, clearly annoyed at me. _Shit, _I thought, _its times like these when I preferred her as a drunk, she didn't care. _I shook the stupid idea out of my head. It's my worst nightmare for her to start drinking again; I don't think I could deal with that, not at all.

"Morning." Imogen was awake now.

"I'm so tired." She yawned, shifting to see in my mirror. She groaned. "Look at the state of me."

To be honest, I thought she looked as perfect as ever. "You look gorgeous, what are you on about? Oh, and, erm, I haven't told my mum that you're here yet."

"What do you think she'll say?"

I mulled it over in my head. "I don't know… I'm 17, she can hardly say anything, and anyway, it's not like we did anything wrong is it?"

"Yeah, but you didn't ask her, it's her house isn't it, and I bet she's not too happy about you not coming home last night."

I let out a groan of frustration and threw myself back onto my bed. "Do I have to?"

"What am I going to do, sneak out of your window?"

"It's an idea." I said, giving her my most charming smile.

"Go!" she laughed. She looked indescribably perfect when she laughed. "I have to go home as soon as possible so I can get my uniform!" I scowled, grabbing the first t-shirt from my cluttered floor and made my way downstairs, leaving the loveliest girl in the world alone in my bed.

X

The faintest smell of burnt toast hit my nostrils as I got to the kitchen. Mum was sat at the table reading the newspaper, humming along casually to the radio in the background. Bracing myself, I entered, grabbing a glass of water.

"Oh… so the wanderer returns." I rolled my eyes, careful not to let her see, as I wanted to be on her good side for when I told her my girlfriend was upstairs. "I was starting to forget you existed."

Sitting down on the opposite side, I groaned. "Don't exaggerate. I just lost track of time, that's all."

"You're still grounded." She got up and threw the viciously burnt toast into the bin. I was dying to say something back, but remembering Imogen upstairs, I bit my tongue.

Casually, I said "Alright." and drank the rest of the stale tasting water. She eyed me, suspiciously.

"What? No sarcastic comment, no argument?"

I just shook my head.

"What are you after?"

"Nothing… it's just that… well…" I stuttered. It shouldn't be this hard to tell her! I don't even think she'll be that bothered about it.

Narrowing her eyebrows and giving me that steely glare that she had perfected over the years, she wouldn't let it go. "Spit it out, then."

I sighed. "Okay, but don't kick off, right? I would have asked you last night but you were in bed-"

Cutting me off, mum smiled. "Do you think I'm daft?"

"What?"

"I know Imogen's here, you idiot."

Acknowledging the sheer amount of confusion that must have been etched all over my face, she explained.

"I don't own a pair of Doc Martens and I'm pretty sure you don't." she chuckled, gesturing towards the bottom of the stairs, where I'd completely forgotten about Imogen's shoes. "Don't worry about it. Just ask me next time, yeah?" She pulled out two mugs from the cupboard and dropped a tea bag into each, before kissing me on the head and adding "Make her a cuppa, then! And hurry up and get ready for school, you've both got an English test today." She left, leaving me wondering who she was and what she'd done with my mum!


	13. Trouble in Paradise?

12.

The past couple of weeks had been great for Connor; everything was going incredibly well with Imogen, his mum hadn't drunk for three months and he couldn't remember the last time he set a fire intentionally. Nevertheless, he still had his moments. Take last week, for example. Imogen's dad was getting married and she asked Connor to go as a plus one, for a bit of moral support. Connor refused, saying he'd never liked weddings and he hardly knew Imogen's mum, never mind her extended family, but when she discovered from Kevin that the two of them had been planning to go to some party on the same night, she was furious at his lies. It escalated into a huge argument, the young teenagers ripping into each other ruthlessly whilst an unwatched film played in the background of Connor's bedroom.

"It's not even the fact that you don't want to go, I don't care, it's the fact that you lied; all that 'I don't like weddings' shit! And all the time you were going to some grotty party with Kevin!" Imogen complained.

"I don't see what your problem is? If you don't care that I don't want to go then why are you kicking off?" Connor was trying to keep his voice down; Christine was downstairs and the last thing he wanted was for her to hear them arguing.

Imogen sighed, running a hand through her hair and flopping down onto Connors bed. "Did you think I would stop you from going with Kevin?"

"No, of course not, I suppose I just felt guilty about going when you wanted me at your Dads!"

"So, will you come to my Dads then? My mum isn't invited and I'll just be sat there by myself all night, it'll be really horrible." All of her family on her Dad's side would be there, but they were either irritatingly nice or infuriatingly dull.

Connor, sitting down beside her, thought about it wisely. He weighed up the pros and cons of the party with Kev and did the same with the wedding. "Imogen… I just hate weddings!"

"You are unbelievable!" Imogen shouted, climbing off the bed. "Do you know what? Just fuck off and leave me alone." Furious that her boyfriend had carried on lying even though he'd been caught out, she stormed downstairs, walked straight past an amused –looking Christine and left, ignoring Connors pleas for her to come back. He let out a grunt of annoyance, and noticed his mum watching, clearly holding in laughter.

"Trouble in paradise?" she chuckled, earning herself a vicious scowl from her son.

Connors frustration almost always manifested itself into a ball of orange in an obscure park somewhere. He'd sit alone, watching fascinatedly as flames rose and fell magnificently – and when it was all over, there was nothing but the charred remnants of burnt leaves and a huge weight lifted from Connors shoulders. He knew it wasn't right, he knew that he should be able to express his anger in a different way, a _normal _way – but what could he do? Talk to his mum about it? She'd only think it was her fault, which would make Connor feel guilty and upset, which would only fuel his desire to set things alight. It was a vicious circle.

It was this that Connor was thinking about as his sat in English, still receiving the cold shoulder from Imogen. She was still sitting next to him though, but the awkward silence between them was so prominent it was almost painful. He was literally lost in thought; his head was hurting from turning everything around again and again in his mind as he stared out of the window. Christine would normally leave him when he was like that in one of her lessons; she knew he had a lot on his mind. But today, she wasn't in the mood for it. There was mock exams coming up and he couldn't afford to just drift off and listen when he pleased.

"Okay, so, can anyone tell me what the character of Mitch represents in A Streetcar Named Desire?" Blank faces stared back at her. "No-one, seriously? Dynasty?"

The vivacious teen replied bluntly. "Don't ask me. I haven't even read it yet."

Christine sighed. How was she supposed drag these kids through A-Levels? "Well, I want it read by next lesson." Dynasty rolled her eyes. "Connor… what about you?" she asked, purposely picking on her daydreaming son. As he turned to look, Christine was actually shocked by how withdrawn he looked.

"What?" he mumbled, quietly. "I wasn't listening."

"Clearly." she said sarcastically, although her maternal instinct had automatically gone into overdrive when she had seen her sons pale face and sad eyes. "Do you actually want to pass English?"

Connor nodded unenthusiastically.

"That goes for you all. How do you expect to pass when you can't even answer a simple character question? Right, for homework I want you all to produce 3 mind maps on the three most important characters of the play – Stella, Stanley, and Blanche. List their characteristics and note their significance throughout the play." Her rant was cut short by the shrill sound of the lunchtime bell. Within a second of it ringing, every student grabbed their things and hastily made for the door. "Connor, can I have a word please?"

Once all the students had left, hungry for the freedom of outside the classroom, Connor sat down on the table at the front, whilst simultaneously stuffing his English books into his bag.

"What's the matter with you?" Christine asked, hoping she was coming across as motherly, rather than the annoyed teacher. She hadn't really had much practice at being there for him, as their relationship was always fractured, tainted by her other relationship with alcohol.

Connor shrugged. "I don't know, I just wasn't listening, don't make a big deal out of it."

"No, I don't mean that. Although, you do need to start listening! I mean… well, you look terrible."

"Oh right, thanks very much." He replied, the sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

"Oh, Connor… talk to me? It's what I'm here for! Just tell me what's upsetting you so much! Is it Imogen?" Christine, conscious of the time, went and sat back down in front of the computer and loaded up the register for her next class.

"No! It's not Imogen, she still isn't speaking to me but it's not that. It's just…" Connor stopped. _Maybe I should tell her_, he thought, _what's the worst that could happen? She'll understand won't she? She is trying to be a good mum now. _He was conflicted. Maybe if he did tell his mum about his problem, she would get him professional help… he could stop starting fires and focus on his blossoming relationship with Imogen, and his A-Levels. But if he told her, she would almost definitely put two and two together and realise that he was the arsonist, she wasn't daft. If she did, then she'd have to tell Mr Byrne or she could lose her job, and Connor would be kicked out of school. Realising his prolonged silence was probably making her suspicious, he stood up. "Nothing, it's nothing."

Christine refused to let it go. "Don't lie to me. You've looked like you want to burst into tears for the past couple of days. Come on, what is it?"

"Just leave it, yeah? I'm okay, I promise." Connor painted on an achingly fake smile.

Unconvinced, but unwilling to push him any further, she told him that he'd best go and get himself some lunch, watched as he left and then pulled out a stack of year 8 marking that she had been neglecting. The coffee that she had been nursing throughout her last class was now cold; her concentration was plagued by the irritating noise of kids outside the window, and the worry about Connor. Sighing, she carried on, managing to mark three books when a knock at the door got her attention.

"Hello, Christine. Only me!" Audrey McFall sauntered in, chirpy as ever. "There's someone here to see you."

Christine's POV. 

"Oh yeah, who?" I replied, genuinely interested. Once I stopped drinking, I realised that I didn't really have any friends on the staff, and although she got right on my nerves, I was trying my best to be civil with Audrey.

Before she had chance to answer, a sharp Scottish accent that I recognised all too well weaved its way through the air.

"Hey, Chrissie."

There he was. The man I thought I'd never see again as long as I lived was now stood in my classroom. The man I loved, the man I had always loved; my ex-husband, Joe.


	14. Weak

13.

Christine was conflicted. Her feelings towards Joe were annoyingly paradoxical – she hated him passionately but at the same time she had never really managed to get rid of those feelings she had for him. She would have took him back in a heartbeat, and completely disregard the fact that he walked on out on her whilst she was pregnant. But he never came back, and Christine was left alone with a baby, alcohol her only friend. The feelings of loneliness that she felt during that time were so sickeningly overwhelming and as soon as she had seen Joe, stood in that doorway as casual as ever; his presence ignited those memories like a lighter to a firework. Rapidly, Christine's curiosity turned to fury.

"What the _hell _are you doing here?" she asked, cleverly keeping her voice down so as not to attract the attention of anyone who was passing her room.

"It was the only way I could track you." he told her calmly. "I need to talk to you."

"This is where I work!" Taking a deep breath, she carried on. "What could we possibly need to talk about? Oh, I know! How about how you walked out on me all those years ago whilst I was pregnant? Hmm?"

Joe eyed the floor nervously. He wanted to argue back, justify his actions, but he needed Christine on his good side to ask her about his fathers will. "I'm sorry. I really am. But seriously, are you still maintaining that the child is mine? We were hardly sleeping together!"

Towards the end of their relationship, Joe accused Christine of cheating. She would never, of course. Despite their differences and ill-advised marriage, she loved him.

"Don't start that again, Joe, you know I would never cheat on you and quite frankly, we aren't here to discuss that. If you really have something you want to speak to me about, meet me here at 3.00." Christine scribbled the name of a café in town on a piece of spare paper and handed it to Joe.

"3.00? I only need 10, maybe 20 minutes. Please, I have to get home tonight… my girlfriend is heavily pregnant, she could pop at any moment, you know?" Joe told Christine, completely unaware that his words had just sliced through Christine's heart. A recovering alcoholic really did not need her ex-husband to show up, reignite the feelings that she had worked to block out with drink all these years, and THEN explain how he had a new girlfriend, a family, a new life; all without her.

Christine tried to keep her voice steady. "Oh, sticking by _that_ kid are you?"

"Yes, of course I am. Don't stoop to low blows, Chrissie. It's not your style." Christine just narrowed her eyebrows, giving him a steely glare. "Your kid then-"

"Our kid." Christine interrupted. "His name is Connor, he doesn't know you're here and I think we should keep it that way, ok?"

"3.00." Joe decided not to push her anymore. He desperately needed her signature for the farmhouse.

"You can't wait here. I have a lesson."

Joe nodded, and left, knowing exactly where he was going to go. Christine, however, watched as her ex-husband left her yet again. Exhausted, she collapsed into a heap of wracking sobs, each one making her body shake, the urge to drink accentuated awfully.

X

Connor was miserable. He was sat under a tree on a patch on grass, watching the world go by. By world, he meant watching Kevin be sickeningly sycophantic to Dynasty Barry (he was head over heels) and Barry Barry bullying Year 7's into buying knock off DVDs (he justified it by using the whole 'Me dads in jail and I'm providing for me family' thing.).

"You better be careful, babe." Connor didn't notice as Imogen wandered over, placed her jacket onto the grass and sat down next to him.

Breaking his train of thought, he said, a bit too snappily, "What?"

"If the wind changes – your face will stay like that." she said, smiling. Although they'd been arguing recently, and she ignored him during English, you didn't have to be a genius to realise something was troubling Connor.

Despite his girlfriend's best efforts, Connor stayed silent.

"Oh, for God's sake; am I going to get a smile from you today or am I stuck with a miserable boyfriend for the rest of my life?"

"For the rest of your life?" Connor managed a smirk. "Do you mean to say you want to be with me forever?"

"Are you going to tell me what's up, then?" Imogen said, aimlessly pulling grass from its roots.

"I wish everyone would stop asking!" he snapped. Apologetically, he mumbled, "Sorry. Anyway, I thought you were ignoring me."

"I was just annoyed that you lied to me. Forget about it, it doesn't matter. But, by the looks of you, you're in no mood for company… and unluckily for you; I'm not leaving you alone until you cheer up!" She moved closer to him and grabbed his hand, interlinking their fingers.

"It's just… everything really. Everything is getting to me, and I feel so down all the time." He stopped as he noticed his mum practically running towards the car, looking distressed. "I wonder what's up with her…" not realising he'd said that out loud.

Imogen glanced in Christine's direction. "You worry too much. I'm sure she's just rushing home to get some books she's forgot or something."

"I can't help but worry though, can I? You know that better than anyone."

Imogen rested her head on Connors arm, reassuring him that his mum would be alright. She didn't know, then, how wrong she was.

X

Sonya, Lorraine's ditzy but loveable sister and Michaels PA, was currently trawling through pages and pages of cakes on the internet. It was her birthday soon, and knowing that no-one else would bother, she was choosing herself the perfect cake. Just as she got to some gorgeous little butterfly cupcakes, she was interrupted by a man in a scuffed leather jacket.

"Can I help you?" she asked, enthusiastically. Noticing his ragged good looks, she flirtatiously flicked her hair and batted her eyelids. Lorraine always said Sonya flirted with anything with a pulse.

Joe Mulgrew got straight to the point. "Yeah… I'm Joe, Christine's husband." He watched as Sonya thought hard about who Christine was.

"Oh, yeah, English teacher, lovely woman!"

"Well, if you say so. Look, I just need to know what class Connor is in at the moment." Joe spoke confidently, mentioning Connors casually as if he knew the boy well. First trick of the book when lying – act like you know what you're doing.

"Hold on a tic." Sonya loaded up the register, not once realising she shouldn't be giving out confidential information to strangers. "I do believe he's in History with Ms McFall, room 70. Would you like me to show you?"

Joe panicked. He recognised the name McFall as the woman who showed him to Christine's room. He didn't want to rouse her suspicions, as she seemed the inquisitive, nosy type. Besides, he didn't even know what his own son looked like. "No, no. Would it be possible for you to get a message to him?" Sonya's face fell, and Joe turned on the charm. "I know I'm pushing it… but please, I really need to talk to him."

Sonya, ever the easily manipulated, grabbed a piece of paper and a pen. "What's the message? I'll see what I can do."

"Just say… he's needed, and if he could come as quickly as possible. Cheers."

Sonya hastily scribbled it down, jumping up immediately and setting off towards Audrey's classroom. "I will do just that! You can wait here, if you like." With a cheeky wink, she left. Joe sat down and shook his head. He just wanted to talk to Connor before he had to leave.

When she arrived, Sonya knocked on the door and informed Audrey that Connor was wanted at reception. Audrey assumed Christine needed him for something or other and gave her permission for him to leave, not thinking anything of it. After seeing the state of his mum at lunch, Connors suspicions were aroused immediately. He grabbed his stuff and followed the bumbling receptionist.

"Here he is, Joe. You can talk in here, if you like. I've got some messages to run." With that, she sped off, leaving Connor wondering who this man was, and Joe examining his long lost son. It was silent for a moment, neither one of them wanting to speak first. Finally, Connor broke the ice.

"So… you going to tell me who you are then or are you just going to stare at me?" he said, pulling up the sleeves of his cardigan over his hands, a habit he'd picked up years ago whenever he felt nervous or awkward.

"This is going to sound weird… but what's your full name and what's your mum's name?"

"My name is Connor Mulgrew and my mums name is Christine… who are you, why do you want to know?"

"Connor… I'm your father. I'm your biological father, and I need your help."

X

Unbeknownst to Christine, back at school her worst nightmare was unfolding. She never wanted Joe speak to Connor, never mind meet him. One of the things they had in common was their skills for lying to get their own way, and Christine would have put money on Joe attempting to turn Connor against her. Although their relationship was growing stronger every day since she stopped drinking, it wouldn't take much to unravel all over again. This thought obviously wasn't in Christine's mind today though, as she stopped outside her local off-license, contemplating going in and buying her old regular – a half-litre of the strongest vodka they had. Giving in to temptation, she went in, pulled it off the shelf and paid, feeling a piercing pang of guilt with every action. Back in the car, hands trembling, she tentatively unscrewed the bottle, the intoxicating smell immediately hitting her nostrils. Unthinkingly, she put all thoughts of Connors imminent dramatic reaction out of her mind, put the bottle to her mouth, tipped… and happily drank and drank and drank.

X

AN: Unless I get chance, I probably won't be updating until next week, as I need to revise this weekend and I've got exams next weekend. Sigh. Anyway, like I said, unless I get chance, it'll be a while, but I promise next chapter will be super long to make up for it. Cheers for reading! x


	15. Confrontations

14.

Joe made his way back to the intimate table in the corner of the café where he was meeting Christine in half an hour, with two cups of tea. After a brief conversation with Connor at the school, he'd decided that this would be the best place to put his plan into action. Placing a piping hot mug in front of his newly-found son, he took a seat opposite him and checked his phone; having already called home to say he might be a little while longer, he was now waiting apprehensively on news from his heavily-pregnant girlfriend.

"Anything interesting?" Connor asked with a hint of antipathy in his voice. Since their first meeting not long ago, Connor wasn't sure what to think. Deep down, he wanted to resent this man for being absent and leaving him to suffer through a childhood with an alcoholic, but at the same time, he was finally meeting his father. As a little boy, he'd often ask Christine questions about his mysterious father, and Christine's less-than-informative answers only led to the young Connor romanticizing the idea of his estranged dad, dreaming up a world where he'd be rescued from his hellish childhood. But he never came, and Connor hated him for it.

Joe looked up; having forgotten Connor was even there. He was too focused on getting Christine's signature and then leaving, he had no time to get attached to the boy. "Oh, no, no, just waiting on a call from home. Look, I'm meeting your mum here soon, and it might kick off a bit."

"Why would it kick off?" the teenager asked, taking a sip of his tea. He tried to stop his face from contorting into disgust when he tasted the sugar, not wanting to seem ungrateful.

"She didn't want me to meet you today." Joe said, deciding it was time to stir things up. "She kicked me out when she was 6 months pregnant with you. I didn't even know your name until a couple of hours ago."

Connor knew his mum was a bitch, and could be really horrible when she put her mind to it, but he had learnt not to trust easily. "Why should I believe you? I don't even know you!"

"I know your mum, though. I know she's a brilliant liar, someone who would do anything to get her own way. I don't want to slag her off to you… anyone can tell you have a close relationship. But I won't have you hating me because of what she has told you."

Connor thought about it. They _did _have a close relationship; they always had, even when she was drinking. It had always been the two of them, depending on each other for everything. But, regardless of a close relationship, Christine _was _a recovering alcoholic and alcoholics aren't exactly known for their truthful ways. Still though, Connor was taking everything Joe said with a pinch of salt. After all, his mum was recovering and she'd been great in the past couple of months. They were getting closer and closer to having a _normal _mother/son relationship, and Connor wasn't about to let a stranger destroy that.

"I don't hate you. I haven't known you long enough to have an opinion on you… but I'm not going to believe anything you tell me until I've spoken to Mum. What time is she meeting you?"

Right on cue, the door to the near-empty café swung open. Connor's heart dropped as he saw a wobbly Christine stagger in. Her hair was in perfect condition, as was her make-up and from the outside you wouldn't know she was drunk – unless you had grown up with it. He knew the signs all too well.

"What are you doing here? You should be in school, and you," she slurred, turning to Joe. "I thought we agreed we were keeping this to ourselves!"

Overwhelming amounts of fury and disappointment built up inside of him. It was as if he could feel his blood boiling. His lighter suddenly hefty in his pocket; he was outraged. "You're drunk!" he shouted. The remaining people in the café turned to look at the commotion, intrigued. "How could you? How could you do this to me, again?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Connor! I've been clean for three months, give me a break." Christine had reverted back to her uncaring, bordering on cold-hearted alcoholic persona.

Joe was confused. Clean? "Whoa, whoa, whoa. What's going on? What do you mean clean?"

"She is an alcoholic, and a couple of months ago the doctors warned her that she could die if she carried on. So, yeah, if you were wondering why I wasn't exactly being friendly towards you, it's because I resent you for leaving me with this!" He fumed, gesturing towards Christine, who had tears in her eyes.

"Chrissie, what happened to you? I don't even know who you are anymore!" Joe had suddenly forgotten about his desperation for the farmhouse. He did genuinely care about Christine, despite their differences and complicated past.

"Oh, shut up Joe. The reason you don't know me is because you left me in the lurch while I was pregnant! You left me, throwing ridiculous accusations around! You never bothered to get in touch, never bothered about your own son. You were perfectly fine with not telling Connor you were here this morning, so why the sudden change? Trying to turn him against me, are you? Spreading your poison?" Seething at Joe's absolute audacity, she ranted at him furiously. She was not going to let this man come between her and her son. No way.

Connor just stood, frozen. Joe had told him that Christine kicked him out, but his mum was saying that he left. Nothing made sense, and he wanted nothing more than to run out of this café and set a fire. The urge was stronger than ever; he felt as if his limbs were paralysed with need, and it took all the strength he had to stay here and find out what the hell was going on. He didn't want any more lies.

"Can someone just tell me the truth?" he said, his voice sprinkled with slight desperation. "Mum, please, I can't handle this. I really can't handle you drinking again." Taking a deep breath to keep the tears from flowing, he met his father's eyes and noticed for the first time that they were as breathtakingly blue as his own. "You're obviously not here for me, and to be honest, I don't care. I've managed without you for long enough. But, seriously, if someone doesn't tell me what's going on I might just explode."

Christine and Joe, shocked at Connor's outburst, glanced at each other.

"Listen, son, your mum will explain everything but I just need you to know that I did what I did because I thought it was for the best." Joe said, before gesturing to Christine to speak.

She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Connor, me and your father, well, we married young. We were practically forced into it, and we were only together for about a month after the wedding. When he found out I was pregnant," Christine said, talking about Joe as if he wasn't in the room, Connor listening intently. "he kicked off, started saying that the baby couldn't have been his, that I must have been cheating on him, blah, blah, blah. He left shortly after, leaving me with nothing but bills to pay and a child on the way. I heard nothing from him, until today." Christine stopped as she watched her son soak in the information. It pained her to talk about her marriage. To be honest, she was beginning to believe her own lies. Joe _was_ Connor's father. He should have been Connor's father. In her mind, it was true. "I didn't want you growing up and thinking that your own father abandoned you, so every birthday and Christmas I wrote cards out, from him. I'm sorry for lying love, but I was only trying to protect you."

Connor vividly remembered the excitement he felt as a child as he opened a birthday card that was from his Dad. For a moment, he felt like every other kid in the world. He did have a father, and the cards gave him hope. Maybe, just maybe, his dream of being rescued by his dad could still come true. As he got older, the hope faded, but the happiness he felt when opening those cards was still there. It was heart-wrenchingly painful to be told his mum was writing them all along. "What were you trying to protect me from, Mum?" Tearfully, he looked her straight in the eyes. "Is there something about me that just makes people want to hurt me?" He didn't care if he sounded like a self-pitying prat, he didn't care about anything anymore. He just wanted to get out of this suddenly claustrophobic little café. The only thing that would make him feel better right now was Imogen, or fire, and it would more than likely be the latter.

Christine's heart broke as she heard the pain in her son's voice. She longed to move forward and pull him in a hug, whisper in his ear that everything was going to be okay, tell him that none of this was his fault like a proper mother should, but instead she focused all her attention onto Joe. "I think you've caused enough trouble. Tell me what you want and leave."

Joe was slightly bewildered. He never thought he'd feel sorry for the boy. He was starting to believe that Connor was biologically his, and despite his reluctance, he was growing a little attached. "W-what? Oh, yeah." He pulled out a stack of papers from the pocket of his leather jacket. "I need your signature on this." He said, bluntly.

"What is it?"

"Christine, my father was always fond of you. He always liked you and he was furious when I left you. He died, not so long ago, and he left you the farmhouse in his will. I know you'll have no use for it, and I'm really hoping that my partner and I can move in, with the little one."

One mention of Joe's father was all it took. Christine felt faint, and her blood ran icy. She tried to disguise her panic, pulling her sleeves over her hands to hide the shaking, but it was no use.

"What's wrong, Mum?"

Panicking, Christine flew out of the café. She drank in the fresh air, before collapsing to the floor and weeping hysterically. Passers-by marvelled at the sight the devastated woman as Connor and Joe followed her out.

"Mum? What are you doing?" Connor was horrified to find his mum on the floor, and not knowing what to do; he looked to Joe for help.

"Christine… Christine, come on, people are looking!"

Distraught, she wiped her tears away, before standing up, positioning herself directly in front of her ex-husband. "Do not come here and talk to me about your father. That bastard ruined my life, destroyed my chances of ever being happy again."

"What the hell are you talking about, woman?"

"I hate him! I hate him so much! I've managed not to think about him or what happened for 17 years, and here you are, blissfully unaware of the monster he really was. I am glad he's dead!" Christine rambled. "You were right. You aren't Connor's father. I was raped! He raped me, Joe. And I would dance on his grave." Monstrous sobs tore through her whole body, as she once again fell to the floor, refusing to acknowledge that in her drunken state, she had let her biggest secret slip out.

Speechless, Joe just stared, nausea flooding through his body.

Connor was paralysed. "I cannot handle this. I just can't handle it." He mumbled, taking one last look at his distressed mother and running, running and not stopping til he reached his destination; one of Waterloo Roads empty art classrooms.

AN: Sorry for the lack of Connor/Imogen. Thanks for reading, as always. Review if you want, if not, don't. It's just an idea, hahaha. X


	16. Aftermath

15.

Connor's POV.

I was walking in a dazed, zombie-like fashion. Lashings of rain crashed onto the pavement, soaking into my hair and dripping onto my face. I didn't wipe the crescent drops away, though, I just carried on walking. I ignored my phone in my pocket, which was now vibrating frantically. I assumed that it was my mum, if she'd managed to recover from her breakdown. It frightened me, seeing her like that, it really did. But I had to leave; I had to run away, let her down yet again to do what I do best when times get hard – find solace in flames, disintegrating my troubles spectacularly. It's not every day that you meet your long lost father, discover that your recovering-alcoholic mother has fallen off the wagon in magnificent fashion and to top it all off, find out that your paternal grandfather raped your mum and is actually your biological father. It would mess any other teenager right up, but luckily for me, I was already pretty troubled. No wonder Mum was the way she was, no wonder she took her problems out on me – I _was _the problem. She had to see me every day, be reminded of that horrific night. And it dawned on me – I was the product of rape. What does that make me? Am I evil? Am I sick? Is that why I'm different to everyone else, why I set fires instead of having a cry or punching a wall when I get angry? I'm never going to be able to look at my mum in the same way again. I had her so wrong, and I had had her down as a monster all these years, when in reality, it was my fault. I was the monster.

Finally, I found myself at the school gates. There was a stupid open evening in the school tonight so everyone was still here. Making my way in, I hoped that I wouldn't see anyone who would ask questions. I wanted nothing more than to pull Imogen into my arms, inhale the intoxicating scent of her divine hair, and have her tell me that everything was going to be okay. I wanted to tell her that I love her; tell her that she has changed my life and let her know that if ever I was to lose her, my life would be over. But how could I? I'd have to explain everything, tell my girlfriend that I was the result of rape and I had no idea how she would react. What if she is repulsed? Would she tell me that there was no way she could stay with me now? I couldn't risk it because it might just tip me over the edge. I wandered down the English corridor, where unfortunately for me; I was collared by Mr Clarkson.

"Connor?"

I ignored him and carried on walking.

"Excuse me, I'm talking to you! Oi!" Mr Clarkson was never one to tolerate ignorance.

Sighing with annoyance, I turned to face him. "What?!"

"A-are you okay?" He was one of the most caring teachers in school, and upon noticing my blood-shot eyes and ghostly, almost anaemic looking face, he was visibly shocked. "Connor, what's up?"

I bit my lip. The only teacher I'd ever cried in front of was my mum, and I wasn't about to let that change. I had no energy left to even attempt to hide my devastation. "I don't mean to be rude, Sir, but… could you leave me alone?" My voice was barely a whisper, and it cracked with every syllable.

"I'm not being funny Connor, but I wouldn't be doing my job properly if I didn't find out what's up with you. You look like you've seen a ghost. Oh, by the way, where's your mum? I haven't seen her since lunchtime."

That was it. One mention of Mum and the floodgates opened. Tears began to stream down my face like a waterfall, but I stayed silent, refusing to air my family's dirty laundry in school.

"Hey, come on, lad. It can't be that bad, can it?"

I drank in the air around me, wiping the salty drops from my face. "You have no idea."

"Well, come to my classroom and we'll have a chat, yeah? There's no way I can leave you in this state."

Does he not know when he's not wanted? "No! I'm not talking about anything, not with you, not with anyone. I don't know where my mum is. The last time I seen her she was drunk and crying in the middle of the street. I shouldn't have even told you that, but do you know what? I have nothing left to lose." Leaving Clarkson looking perplexed, I gave him a scowl and disappeared down the corridor.

X

I was about to set the last fire of my life.

What I was about to do was going to change my life forever, and the repercussions were going to eclipse anything I've ever done.

But like I said, I had nothing to lose… except, her.


	17. This Was Not Meant To Happen

16.

Flames smouldered passionately around the room, desperately searching for its next target and executing its plan with perfect precision – scathingly blasting through whatever it managed to touch. The fire wasn't too dangerous, yet, but that was Connors plan. Crouched in the corner, he stared heart-brokenly into the flames in an almost trance-like state. Surprisingly, considering the endless amounts of fires he'd started in the past, he had never once wanted to be hurt by it – it was just a coping mechanism. But he'd given up. He _wanted_ to be hurt, he _deserved _to be hurt. How could he possibly live with himself knowing that all these years he was torturing his own mother by simply existing? He wondered if he bore any resemblance to his father. Thinking back to his meeting with Joe, he remembered how startled he was when he noticed how similar their eyes were. _He'__s my half-__brother,_ Connor thought with sudden realisation. _My mum's ex-husband is my half-brother. What is going on? _ He shook the thought out of his mind, curling up into a foetal position and enjoying the solitude and warmth of the flames – oh how he loved his destructive qualities.

X

Imogen was wandering down the corridor, having been given strict instructions to get some supplies from the art room for the open evening tonight. It was odd – as she got closer, she felt warmer. The air felt as if it was thickening, and she could hear a faint, lingering crackling noise. Speeding up, her suspicions were confirmed when she arrived at the schools art room, opening the door to be greeted by puffs of whirling, clear smoke. It took her by surprise, and she was caught up in a coughing fit. Pulling her sleeve over her mouth, she saw an image that would be engraved in her mind forever. She knew that in years to come, no matter what happened between them, this very image would haunt her forever – the boy she loved, sprawled across the floor, unconscious.

"Connor!" she shouted, tears springing into her eyes. Panicking, she darted forward, instinctively kneeling down beside her boyfriend and checking his pulse. "Connor, wake up!"

To her utter disbelief, Connors eyes flickered open. The whites of his eyes were horribly bloodshot and he was squinting, as if he was in pain. "I-Imogen? What are you… doing here?" Every word was muffled, and it was clear that it was taking all of Connors energy to speak. Despite being injured, he was still terror-stricken at the thought of Imogen being at the heart of the explosion. He utterly refused to let anyone else get hurt through his own stupidity, especially Imogen. "You need… to get… out, now."

"Connor, you're hurt." She spluttered, the smoke now getting to her chest. "Come on, can you move?" Imogen could see that Connor was constantly drifting in an out of consciousness, and it didn't take a genius to know that he needed to stay awake, so she began talking to him whilst attempting to manoeuvre him to safety. "Everything is going to be okay, I promise you. I love you so much and I am not about to let you go any time soon, you got that?"

It was a lost cause – no matter how much she tried, she just couldn't move him and she refused to drag him out in case it damaged him further. Deciding to leave it to the professionals, she rubbed her stinging eyes and attempted to get out so she could set the fire alarm off. She was furious that it hadn't gone off yet – what type of school was this? Gingerly, she turned around, only to notice that the monstrous flames had closed the gap, now so tall they almost touched the roof. Her breathing was fractured; her desperation to get help for her boyfriend personified by her own struggle to liberate herself. _What a disaster_, she thought, beginning to feel fear swirling through her veins. Imogen didn't want to die, but she just could think of a way out. After what felt like hours, she acquiesced, kneeling back down next to Connor, deciding that if she was going to die, she would die with the boy she loved. Finally, she thought she could make out the distinct roar of the fire bell and the babble of anxious students making their way outside, confident that this wasn't a drill; fire had been all too prominent in their last term at Waterloo Road. She heard random voices, calling random names, some noticing the burning art room, attempting to peer in curiously before being ushered away by teachers.

"HELP!" Imogen screamed, desperately, but it was no use. Her voice faltered under the effect of the smoke, and it couldn't be heard over the howling of the flames. She tried one more time, her calm exterior now transforming into a frenzied panic.

Imogen found herself slipping further and further into the blackness.

Falling deeper and deeper until there was nowhere left to go.

She wondered if she was dead. She wondered if Connor was dead.

A siren… was she dreaming or could she faintly hear sirens?

And then it was gone. That tiny slither of hope she was grasping on to was gone, there was no sirens.

It was just… black.


	18. Hospitals And Interviews

17.

"_There's been an accident."_

The words replayed in Christine's ears like a broken record. It had been an awful day – a couple of hours ago, she was drunkenly arguing in the street with her ex-husband and not long after that, she received a call from Michael, briefly explaining what had happened and telling her that she needed to get to the hospital. Connor was fighting for his life and she had to get there, _now._ Michael offered to pick her up and take her to the hospital, but she declined, too thirsty for information and reassurance of Connor's safety to wait for lifts.

Hospitals are a paradoxical whirlwind of life – as one starts, another one ends. The atmosphere of pain and suffering is a constant. Whose idea was it to paint the majority of hospital walls white, anyway? Immaculately bright walls piercing tired eyes with every turn. Did they do it on purpose to lighten the mood? It was these types of stupid, borderline philosophical questions that Christine was using to distract herself. She had been allowed into the Intensive Care Unit that Connor had been placed on for a mere 5 minutes, before being dragged away and practically caged into a dreadfully claustrophobic visitors room. At first she wouldn't leave, protesting adamantly that she wasn't going to leave him, she couldn't leave him… he was her son and seeing him wired up to various different ventilators and machines made her weep inconsolably. The doctors kindly persuaded Christine to leave, explaining how they needed to take Connor away for tests as soon as possible and prolonging the examination could lead to long-term consequences. It was serious situation – more serious than Connor could ever have imagined when he had started the fire. All he aimed to do was burn his problems away, but he had only created more for himself in the process. He really did have the worst luck in the world.

Michael entered the visitor's room and took a seat next to Christine. He let them sit in silence for a moment, before gently putting a comforting arm around the emotionally distraught English teacher.

"Christine… he's going to be fine." he whispered, softly.

Christine shifted in her seat, shaking his arm from her shoulder. "You didn't see him. Oh, Michael," she began to sob, all the overwhelming emotions of the day catching up with her. "He just looked so… small, so tiny. They have him wired up to all sorts of things and… I just want him to be okay, Michael. I want to tell him I love him. I didn't tell him often enough."

"He knows you love him, and he is in the best place right now, they're doing all they can. Come on, now, stop the tears. You have to be strong for him, Christine. He needs it now more than ever." Michael said, in a perfect tone of voice that mixed calmness with reassurance.

Christine just nodded sadly, before asking the question that was on every ones lips. "W-what happened, Michael?"

"The police are looking into it as we speak but I've been told that they have reason to believe the fire was started deliberately. They also think Connor was in there first, before Imogen Stewart. The details are hazy though, and I suppose we'll only know what really happened when he wakes up. The police want to question them both, as soon as possible."

"How is Imogen?" Christine asked, bracing herself for more bad news, although she wasn't sure how much she could actually take in one day.

"She's… doing pretty well, in spite of it all. They brought her in unconscious but she came around not long ago. They're leaving her to rest for a while before they question her. We think she went in to try and get Connor out, and either passed out from smoke inhalation or was stuck behind the flames."

Awful visions of her little boy lying there alone and scared flashed through her mind; if Imogen really had gone in to try and help him, Christine owed her, big time. Poor girl, she was suffering too. Despite their differences in the past, Christine did like Imogen. She was a lovely girl and any idiot could see how happy she made Connor. After the rough little life that he'd had at the hands of Christine's alcoholism, his happiness was all that mattered to her. Christine mentally promised herself that if he came round, _when_ he came round, she would do everything in her power to make it up to him. She would give him the best life possible, and she would _never _drink again, that was a promise she would never break, despite her track record. The repercussions were too much to handle.

A knock on the door broke her train of thought. The doctor from earlier entered, calmly. Christine instinctively examined his body language and his facial expression, desperately searching for signs of bad news, signs of good news, clutching at straws.

"Mrs Mulgrew?" the doctor said, in a neutral voice. "I'm Dr Gallagher and I'm overseeing your son's treatment."

The two teachers rose up, anxiously; even Michael felt scared, anticipating what was coming next. It was always an ordeal when a student was in hospital, but this felt different. He wondered if it was because he and Christine had grown close in the past few months, because he'd never particularly had to deal with Connor in school, apart from the time he got caught drinking on school site, and the odd few mishaps that had him sent to the cooler. If he felt like this, he couldn't possible imagine what Christine was enduring at the moment.

"How is he?" Christine mumbled, utterly terrified to hear the answer.

Dr Gallagher straightened his glasses. "Connor is stable. We have administered antibiotics to clear the lungs of any leftover smoke and luckily, the tests have shown there is no damage to the brain. We expect him to make a full recovery, although we will only be sure when he wakes."

Christine sighed in relief, but refused to smile. It may have been pessimistic, but she firmly believed in not getting your hopes up to have them ruthlessly torn apart.

X

In the next ward down, Imogen lay awkwardly in her hospital bed. Already sick of her mother and father (they couldn't be in the same room for more than ten minutes without arguing, even in situations where their daughter's health was compromised), she had sent them off with strict instructions to find out what had happened to Connor. Imogen's parents were amused when their daughter's groggy first words were "Is Connor okay?" – She was truly the most selfless person on the planet, although they were not too happy that she had risked her life in favour of his.

Hearing the door go, Imogen rolled her eyes in frustration. All she wanted was news on her boyfriend, not endless fussing at the hands of Sally. "Mum!" she moaned; her voice weak and scratchy from the vast amount of smoke she had inhaled. Hearing no response from her mum, she painfully manoeuvred herself so she was sitting upright. "Did you find out how Connor is?"

"Miss Stewart." Two police officers entered, venturing closer to Imogen's bed, only speaking when they noticed the confused look on Imogen's face. "We have been given permission to question you. Are you happy to answer some questions for us? We understand that you have been through a traumatic ordeal, but it would help us a great deal with our investigations."

"What are you investigating?" she asked, genuinely oblivious.

The younger policewoman took a seat on the chair next to Imogen's bed, using a nauseatingly patronising voice, as if she were talking to a five year old. "We have sufficient evidence to believe that the fire you were injured in was started deliberately. Do you understand what we mean by deliberately?"

If there was one thing Imogen couldn't stand, it was being treated like a kid. "Can you stop talking to me like that? I'm not mental." The older police woman pursed her lips disdainfully. "I'm not answering any of your stupid questions until someone tells me whether or not my boyfriend is alive!"

"Mr Mulgrew is in a stable condition, we are assured. We will be questioning him just as soon as he is well enough, but for now, we would really appreciate it if you could help us out."

Acquiescing, Imogen gestured for them to fire away.

"What is the last thing you remember, Imogen?"

"I-I don't remember a lot. I remember being frightened, scared that I was going to die but more scared for Connor. I remember he was unconscious, and I tried to get him out safely, but I couldn't lift him, and," her voice faltered, tears springing into her eyes at the raw memories. "And I really thought we were going to die."

The policewoman glanced at each other, suspiciously. They had no reason to believe the girl was lying, but they were investigating suspected arson and every lead had to be followed.

"Do you know how the fire started?"

"I don't know! Why are you asking me? I don't remember entering the room, I don't remember leaving. All I remember is the fear. And the blackness; the darkness, it was… engulfing. Do you have any idea what that feels like? Being so sure you're going to die that you just give up? I tried to get out… but I couldn't, so I stayed with Connor, because I knew I was going to die and I knew wanted to die with him." Imogen longed to see him.

They were not prepared for such a heartfelt response. The younger policewoman was newer to the job and became attached easily – sometimes, she just wanted to reach out and give the poor people a warm hug, criminal or no criminal. But the older woman was more experienced. She had cut herself off from feelings, cold-heartedly pressing for more even if someone was in distress.

"Thank you, Shakespeare, very moving. We are not here for poetry, Miss Stewart. Answer the question please. Do you know how the fire started?"

Imogen had never realised how painful it was to get angry when you were recovering from a fire. Trying to regulate her breathing, she inhaled as deeply as she could without wincing and gave the pretentious old woman an abrupt, blunt answer of "No. Can you go now?"

"One more question, Miss Stewart, and then we will let you rest. Are we right in assuming that your boyfriend, Connor, started the fire deliberately?"

Imogen's POV.

"One more question, Miss Stewart, and then we will let you rest. Are we right in assuming that your boyfriend, Connor, started the fire deliberately?"

I was appalled. How could they possibly believe Connor had it in him to do such a thing? He may be troubled, but he's just misunderstood. It's not his fault that for the majority of his life his mum favoured alcohol over her own son. I was keeping my cool throughout the mind-numbingly, tediously boring interview, but on the inside, I was screaming. I felt like I was drowning and no-one was there to help pull me above the water. Every time I blinked, it was as if the memory of Connor laying there unconscious was burned into my eyelids. I could still feel the heat, the sweltering heat. I wanted the police officers to leave me alone so I could get some sleep; hopefully if I slept, I'd wake up happy. That wasn't going to happen though; the nightmares were already there like a DVD already set up, just waiting for someone to press play. I wouldn't be content until I'd seen Connor, seen for myself that he was fine.

"W-what? Why would you say that?" I stuttered, pushing myself further upright, hoping my posture would radiate confidence.

"Connor Mulgrew has had it tough in the past, hasn't he?"

"What are you insinuating? Come on, spit it out. You think my boyfriend is an arsonist!"

It was as if the pieces of the puzzle were clicked in by my subconscious. Everything swirled through my mind at once, leaving me feeling quite faint, nauseous even. Connor had been acting pretty strangely since our argument over my Dad's wedding… in fact; he acted unusually every time we argued, every time he and his mum argued, or even when he was just feeling a bit down. He never acted like a normal teenager – never just shut himself away in his room, or ranted to me or his friends for hours about how much he hates life. Thinking about it now, he acts like a drug addict. He had this suspicious, sort of, _longing_, and I always seem to notice him playing with a lighter. When I confronted him about it, he said he keeps it on him at all times – a present from his late granddad or something. Although it looked like your average 99p shop bought lighter, I didn't push it, knowing the value of sentimental gifts. But suddenly, it clicked.

It was Connor! He was an arsonist… and he set that fire.

I'd completely forgotten they were there until they rudely interrupted my thoughts. "Miss Stewart, we are asking you a simple question and then you can rest. Did your boyfriend start that fire?"

I wrestled with my tongue, with my conscience. I was only assuming, after all, that Connor did it. But there was a nagging sensation telling me that I was right – all the evidence added up. Did I tell the truth, or do I lie for him? I can hardly drop him in it, can I? The poor boy isn't even conscious, and what if, god forbid, he never wakes up? I will have tarnished his reputation forever and he won't even be able to defend himself.

"No, he didn't. I know he didn't."

Pulling out a cheap, tatty-looking notebook from her pocket, the older police woman looked ready to pounce, hanging on to my every word.

"How can you be so sure?"

This is it, Imogen, now or never. I bit my tongue, I tried to stop myself, and I really, really tried. But I loved him, so much. There were not enough words in the English language to accurately articulate my feelings for him.

"I'm sure because… I started it. I started the fire. It was me."


	19. I'm Sorry

18.

Imogen tossed and turned miserably in her hospital bed, unable to sleep properly due to the copious amount of regret that plagued her and the bandages on her face itching annoyingly. Last night, she admitted to starting a fire that she didn't actually start. The police had decided not to pursue her confession until they had had chance to speak to Connor, who was still unconscious. Sally was furious, refusing to even be in the same room as her daughter; Imogen supposed it was just the shock, that she'd come round eventually, but she was really glad of the peace. It gave her time to think. What was she going to say? She had no reason whatsoever to have started that fire, and what if Connor didn't start it? What if it actually was an accident and she just got herself into major trouble for nothing? One thing she did know, though, was that she needed to talk to Connor before the police got to him.

X

"What are you doing here?" Michael said; shocked to see an exhausted-looking Christine wander into the staffroom. To be honest, he didn't even want to open the school today but it was almost exam time and Lorraine was determined to get the best results possible for the first year of the new Waterloo Road. "I wasn't expecting you. I thought you'd be at the hospital."

"Oh, I'm going back there now, I just popped home to get changed and they wanted some paperwork of some sort," Christine spoke quietly. She hadn't slept and the worry was eating away at her energy. "I just thought I'd better tell you that Imogen has confessed to starting the fire."

Michael pulled at his tie, shocked. "Wow, well, I didn't expect that. Has she said why she did it?"

"They're waiting until Connor wakes up," Feeling her voice tremble, she clenched her fists, digging her nails into the palm of her hands in a feeble attempt to pull herself together. "until they investigate properly. They want to know his side of the story; apparently her version of events doesn't really fit Connor's injuries."

"No change, then?"

Christine shook her head sadly. "No. The doctors say it's fine, it's normal for someone in these circumstances. I don't know, though, I can't help but worry."

Michael put a reassuring arm on Christine's shoulder, but before he got chance to speak he was suddenly interrupted by a generic phone ringtone. Recognizing the melody, Christine plunged her hands into her pocket, fearing the worst. The head-teacher watched intently as her close friend walked off to receive news on her son, hoping for her sake that it was good – he really didn't like seeing her this upset. After a couple of minutes, Christine returned, beaming.

"That was the hospital. It's Connor, he's woken up!"

X

Christine made it back to the hospital in record time; she probably went through hundreds of red lights but she didn't care. All she wanted to do was see Connor. These last 24 hours had been the most agonizing of her life, and the fear of possibly losing him only highlighted her guilt over taking him for granted all these years. When he was younger, she couldn't remember how many times she'd chosen to sleep of a hangover rather than get up and make him breakfast, or take him out somewhere; how many times he'd missed school trips because she'd squandered the fee on vodka. She knew he deserved better and he was going to get that life – she couldn't turn back the clock, but she could focus on being the best mother she could conceivably be from now on.

Finally arriving at Connor's hospital room, she hesitantly pushed open the door to be greeted by Dr Gallagher.

"Mrs Mulgrew, there you are."

Christine took a seat by the bed. There was a strangely awkward atmosphere between the mother and son. Neither knew what to say to each other, owing to the last time they seen each other before the fire was Christine's drunken rape confession.

Luckily, the doctor sensed the atmosphere and broke the ice. "You gave us quite a fright, young man, sleeping away like that."

Connor just shifted uncomfortably in his bed, folding his arms across his chest. He hadn't uttered a single syllable since he had woken up, and he could tell the doctors were getting slightly frustrated with his lack of co-operation. All he wanted to do was find out how Imogen was - if she was hurt, he would never forgive himself. The piercing stabs in his head were just too much to bear, and although he was still quite confused about what happened, having been given little details, he was still consumed with guilt. Every time he blinked he remembered the look of panic on Imogen's face as she tried to pull him out, the way she faded away as he sank deeper and deeper into unconsciousness.

"Yeah, you always were lazy." Christine said, with a genuine smile that touched her eyes.

Connor just looked at her, finally making eye contact. He'd been dreading this moment. What could he possibly say to her? _'Sorry for nagging you all these years over alcohol when all this time I was the main reason you drank!'_

As their eyes met, thousands of unspoken words seemed to pass between the two. Apologies from both of them… they both thought they were the bad party in the relationship. Christine was adamant that she was a terrible mother and Connor was devastated to realise he was the monster, not her. In those few moments, they both made mental promises to kick their addictions – no more flames, no more booze. No more sorrow, just a healthy mother/son relationship.

"I'll leave you two to catch up, but I'll be back later to do some routine checks, and the police will want to speak to you soon."

Connor's snapped back to reality as soon as Dr Gallagher uttered the word 'police.' _Shit_, he thought, _I'm going to jail. _

"Wait!" he shouted, without realising, breaking his silence. "Could you… put them off for a bit? Could you say I'm not ready to talk to them?"

Straightening his glasses, Dr Gallagher was taken aback by Connors request. "I can try my best, but I'm making no promises." And he left, leaving Christine eying her son suspiciously.

She watched as Connor put his head in his hands, making a sort-of distraught groaning sound. "Okay, son, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on with you?"

Connor's POV.

"Okay, son, are you going to tell me what the hell is going on with you?"

_Where do you want me to start? _I thought. I couldn't even look her in the eye, all I saw was the vast amount of resentment and hatred she must have towards me. How could she love me, a rape baby? If I told her it was me that started the fire, it would more than likely tip her over the edge; she'd kick me out and tell me she never wanted to see me again, that the evil genes of my rapist father were finally catching up to me. I stared into space, wrapped up in my harrowing thoughts, completely forgetting her question.

"Connor? Come on, love. You've had me so worried!" I knew she was forcing herself to be nice to me – she'd done it for 16 years.

"Stop it, Mum." I whispered, just loud enough for her to hear. "Just don't."

Her face contorted into complete misunderstanding. "What? Don't what?"

"Don't be nice to me. I don't deserve it. You can cut the act now, anyway, I know. I know that I am the reason you drink, I am the reason you have lived the majority of your life unhappily. I understand why you weren't the best mum in the world while I was growing up; it was because you couldn't stand to look at me. I was a reminder."

"Connor, no-"

I cut her off, determined to say my piece. "Please, just listen to me. As soon as they discharge me, I'll pack my things. I'll move into a hostel or something, but I promise you won't see me again. I'll disappear and you can get on with your life without me there. I've had you so wrong all these years, when really, it was all my fault." I stopped to take a deep breath, my chest twinging from the effort of my rant.

I braced myself for what was coming next. I was so sure she was going to kick me out, finally be open about her hatred of me. But she just looked at me, her face neutral.

"Okay, you've said your piece. Now, you can listen to me." She grabbed my hand, supportively. "I don't ever want to hear you talk like that again, do you hear me? Joe's father was an evil, evil man and you weren't supposed to know about it. But what he did in no way reflects on you, sweetheart. You are a lovely, kind, intelligent, handsome young man; you've got your whole life ahead of you! But you have to understand that none of this is your fault. I was a terrible mother to you because I was an alcoholic, not because I hated you or because you reminded me of him. I chose the drink over you far too many times, and for that, I am so sorry. I took it out on you and if I could turn back the clock, I would, but I can't. All I can do is promise to be the best mum possible from now on. No more lies, no more booze." She stopped for a moment. "I love you so much, and I know you know that, so know more silly talk, okay?"

I was overwhelmed by her response. How could she forgive me so easily? The emotion of the last couple of days finally caught up with me. "I'm so sorry, Mum. I'm so sorry." She bundled me up into a maternal hug and I let myself cry and cry, unexpectedly comforted by her warm embrace – but I was far from okay.

X

AN: This wasn't really where I wanted to go with this chapter, but I really thought Connor and Christine needed to acknowledge the rape thing or it would just be one massive elephant in the room! Thanks for the lovely reviews! X


	20. A Messy Situation

19.

The hospital decided to keep Connor in for a couple more days while they ran tests to be extra sure that there was no long-lasting damage from smoke inhalation. He didn't have many visitors while he was there – Kevin came once, and his mum practically refused to go home despite his pleas for a bit of peace. The only person he wanted to see had been discharged already; Imogen seemed reluctant to speak to him for some reason. _Maybe she knows it was me and never wants to see me again, _Connor thought. He wouldn't blame her, who in their right mind would want to be with a mentalist like him? Dr Gallagher had followed through on Connor's request of keeping the police away for a while, which was something, but he was growing increasingly frustrated with being stuck in a hospital bed – there was nothing to take his mind away from the guilt. He had stared at the ceiling for so long his eyes were watering; everything was just dull, and he felt so alone.

Connor reached for his phone, which had started vibrating noisily on the bedside table. He automatically answered when he saw who was calling. "Hello?" he said, careful to keep the eagerness out of his voice.

"Hey, it's me." Imogen's voice danced through the phone, boosting Connor's mood immensely.

"Are you okay? I wanted to come and see you but they wouldn't let me… I don't know why though, I'm fine!" he laughed, embarrassingly overcompensating for the uncomfortable tension.

"Yeah, yeah… I'm good. I mean, there's some scarring on my face, but I suppose that's the least of my worries now." she seemed down, unlike her usual upbeat self.

"What do you mean?" Connor asked.

"I need to talk to you. Face to face, just me and you."

"Well, come to the hospital today if you like. They're keeping me in for a little longer, and it'll just be me and you 'cause Mum isn't coming back until later. What's up, though? Sounds serious." Connor might not have had many girlfriends before Imogen, but he knew to expect the worst when it came to the whole 'we need to talk' thing.

"It is serious; to be honest I thought they would have told you. I'll come now. See you soon."

And with that, she hung up, leaving Connor feeling even more alone than ever.

X

Imogen had to be careful – the police didn't want her to see Connor until they'd spoken to him in case she influenced his responses, but judging by his reaction on the phone, they hadn't told him that she admitted to starting the fire. She had to speak to him.

Thanking the bus driver, she got off just outside the hospital and headed to Connor's ward; she knew exactly where it was, and she hoped with all her heart that there was no police there or Mrs Mulgrew for that matter, who was bound to be furious with her. Finally arriving at the ward, she went in, feeling extremely nervous.

Connor was sat upright in bed scrolling away at his phone, presumably on Facebook. Loads of people had posted well-wishes, generic get well soon messages and the like onto his wall, which only fuelled his unbearable feelings of guilt and general disgust in himself. He just wanted people to stop being nice to him. He knew he had to find the bravery to confess, and soon.

He locked his phone and placed it on the side when he saw Imogen enter. "Hey! You alright?"

Imogen moved closer into the room, anxious not to let Connor see her scars. "Connor, I need to tell you something."

"Go on, then." he said, chirpily, determined to stay optimistic. He hated when Imogen went all serious on him.

"While you were unconscious… the police interviewed me. It's a suspected arsonist case."

"Yeah, I know, they want to speak to me but I've been putting them off. How'd it go?"

She just came straight out with it. "It was you, wasn't it? You set the fire."

Connor's heart plummeted. He was planning on telling her, but if she already knew, who else did? "How did you know?" he asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing up.

"I sort of… worked it out. But that's not important, what _is_ important is what I said to the police."

He hadn't thought of that. _Surely she wouldn't have shopped me to the police_, Connor thought, uneasily. "D-did you tell them?"

"No! Of course not. The thing is… there's a reason I need us to be alone. If your mum found out I was here, she'd kick off, big style."

"Why would she? I thought you two were getting on now."

Imogen ran a hand through her hair, before walking over to the TV and switching it off; the background noise was distractingly annoying. She was procrastinating, unable to tell Connor that she had confessed to the arson in case it spelled the end of their relationship altogether. She did what she did to protect him, not to lose him.

"I'm going to be charged with arson, Connor."

A million conflicting emotions ran powerfully through Connors mind. "What? What are you on about?" Realising what she was implying, he said, "Oh no… please tell me you didn't!"

Imogen just looked at the floor, tears prickling her eyes. She didn't know what to say, but she didn't know why she was getting upset; she'd done nothing wrong. "When I realised it was you, I panicked. I just said the first thing that came into my mind!"

Connor was devastated; fire was always meant to be his comfort blanket, nothing more and nothing less. It was never meant to get this complicated. "Why would you do that? For god sake Imogen, do you have any idea what they'll do to you? You have to go and tell them the truth, now!"

"No! I did this to protect you! And if you're not grateful, then fine. But I'm not going to change my statement, no way. All you have to do is go with my story and you'll stay out of jail."

"Imogen, I can't let you do this, I can't let you lie for me! I should never have started that fire but I did and I hate myself for it. I never imagined we'd end up in hospital, and for that," he gestured to her scar, wincing, "I am so, so sorry. I will never forgive myself, and if you go to prison for something that I did, then it'll only make it worse. Please, Im, go and tell the police it was me."

Imogen was full on crying now, the salty tears smudging the minimal amount of mascara that she actually wore. Her eyes were puffy and red; it wouldn't take a genius to work out she'd been crying. Unluckily for the young couple, Christine did what she did best; turning up at the wrong time and causing havoc.

"What's going on?" she started, furious that Imogen had the audacity to visit Connor after what she'd done. "You shouldn't be here."

"Mum, stop it." he said, sadly, knowing the truth had to finally come out and it had to be now. "Just leave her alone."

Christine was having none of it. "Leave her alone, after what she did to you?" Glancing towards Imogen, not even hiding her disgust, she said "You're not allowed to see him until he's spoken to the police."

"She didn't _do_ anything, Mum. Just calm down; you don't know the facts."

Connor was terrified at the prospect of confessing and going to jail. He'd heard all about prisons from Dynasty. She was a natural raconteur – scaring her friends out of committing crimes with fearful tales of when she visited her dad inside. It was not a place he ever wanted to wind up, but there was no way he would ever let Imogen take the blame. He just had to man up.

"I want to know what's going on, right now." Christine said, frustrated, her suspicions rising.

"Imogen lied to the police to protect me." He began, unable to look his Mum in the eye. "The fire… it was me, I started it."


	21. We Need To Protect You, Both Of You

20.

"Please tell me you're joking." Christine began, her brain going into overdrive as she tried to make sense of it all in her head. She vaguely remembered Connor storming out after an argument – the most important part of this memory being the smell; when he came back, he always smelt lightly of smoke. In her intoxicated state, she thought nothing of it. He was a teenager, probably going through a phase of smoking cigarettes with his mates, and as Christine smoked herself, she was well accustomed to the smell and hardly noticed it. All this mixed with the fact that, although she loved him dearly in her own way, she didn't really care what he got up to. Buying and drinking alcohol was her main interest during most of his life. On the odd occasion, she would catch him burning a few leaves in their back garden but after grounding him and taking the lighter away from him, she never again thought of it, until today – achingly sober in Connors hospital room.

Feeling pain in his stomach, Connor gently sat back down on his temporary bed. He couldn't bring himself to look at his mum, or Imogen. Guiltily, he looked at the floor, hoping someone else would speak to break the uneasy silence, but they never did, so summoning all his courage, he took it upon himself. "I'm sorry." He said, simply.

"You're sorry? Is that it? I actually came back to tell you that the police want to talk to you today, without argument, so whatever is going on… you need to tell me, now, both of you." Christine took a seat, waiting for a plausible explanation.

Connor was reluctant to tell his mum of his penchant for fire-starting. They had only just spoken about the rape thing, and to be honest, he was still trying to get his head around that. The last thing he wanted was to drop another bombshell on her; he knew she was struggling without the drink, and didn't want to be the reason she reached for a bottle. His constantly worsening feelings of disgust in himself were manifesting themselves daily into something that closely resembled depression – he couldn't go to jail because that might tip him over the edge, but he absolutely outright refused to lay his mistakes on Imogen's shoulders.

"After the whole thing with Joe… I was angry and confused and I didn't know what to do so I went back to school and started a fire in the art room. It was never meant to get as big as it did, though! I couldn't control it and I couldn't move; it was as if I was… sort of, frozen. The last thing I remember is waking up and wondering why Imogen was there, and then waking up here."

He stopped, feeling a lump in his throat. Christine exhaled, trying to process the information.

"And I think I've made the whole situation a whole lot worse." Imogen said, cryptically. Despite doing what she did for the best, she couldn't help but feel guilty – what if she had unwillingly cemented his fate? They might think he had forced her to lie, and be extra hard on him when sentencing him. Realising she was getting ahead of herself, she breathed out calmly, and carried on.

"I don't know how but I sort of realised that Connor did it halfway through my police interview. I panicked and said it was me, I'm not really sure if they believe me but if they do, then I'm getting charged with arson." Purposefully making eye-contact with Christine, she said, "I'm so sorry if I _have_ made things worse, I really am, but you have got to believe me. I did it to protect him, not to get him into more trouble."

Christine could see Imogen's frightened anxiety, and gave her a reassuring nod of the head, accompanied by a little smile, before turning to Connor, giving him her best disappointed look.

"You are an actual idiot, do you know that?" He nodded. "Oh, for God's sake, what am I going to do with you? Why a fire, Connor? That's the bit I don't understand, why fire? If there's one thing I'm sure about, it's that starting fires is not a normal coping method, love."

She was trying to be understanding, but was oblivious to the effect that her words had had on her son – it was the one thing that Connor did not want; her to say that he wasn't _normal_. Without being dramatic, to hear that was like a knife right through his heart. He knew he wasn't like other teenagers, he knew that there was something wrong with him and it ate away at him. His biggest fear was being ostracised because of it; no-one could ever find out. Deep down, Connor knew she didn't mean anything by it, but the words were a catalyst for the overwhelming emotions he'd felt in the past couple of hours.

"Please, don't, not you of all people." He started; his voice thick from trying not to cry.

"Don't what?"

"Just… don't turn against me. Please." The desperation in his voice intensified; it was genuinely painful for Imogen to hear the boy she loved sound so small, so defeated and she just wanted to give him a hug, but Christine was too engrossed in his words. It was a rare occasion that Connor actually confided anything in her so when he did, she knew to grab it with both hands.

"I would never, Connor. I could never do that. I haven't been the best parent in the world, we both know that, but I can promise you that I will be there for you, no matter what. Just tell me, love. Tell me why you start fires." She glanced at the clock uneasily, conscious of the time as she knew the police would be arriving soon. "Once you tell me we can get this whole thing sorted and keep you both out of serious trouble."

It took all the strength in the world for Connor to open up to his mum and girlfriend; he had tried to compartmentalise it in his head, but articulating it suitably would be a challenge. He clutched awkwardly at the custom hospital shirt he'd been given, mentally cursing the designer for not making the sleeves long enough to pull over his hands; the only comfort he had now that the option of fire had been taken away.

"I don't know where to start, really. It's just my thing, you know? It happens every time I'm angry or upset and it's normally only little, it's never been a danger until now." He looked at Imogen, who took a sharp but quiet, unnoticeable intake of breath when she seen his sorrow-filled eyes. It killed her to see him like this, and she really couldn't deal with it. She suddenly felt awkward, as if she was intruding on a private mother/son moment, and tried to make her excuses to leave.

"I-I'm just going to head off… give you two a bit of, um, privacy." She mumbled, already making her way to the door.

"No, wait, you're not going anywhere." Christine said. "We still haven't decided what we're telling the police."

"It doesn't matter, does it? I've already told them it was me so as long as he sticks with that story then he's safe."

"I'm not letting you do that, Imogen."

Imogen couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Why would you care?" she said, a little too defensively.

"Because I'm not letting you take the blame for something Connor did, and I'm pretty sure he doesn't want you to do that, either. Anyway, if the truth were to come out, we'd all be in trouble for lying to the police. There is no point in entangling ourselves in a mess."

Connor was listening to their conversation without much interest. He was convinced he was going to jail now, and as his mum and girlfriend quickly tried to find a believable solution, he was lost in regret. How he wished he could go back to his younger self, at the first click of his lighter and knock it out of his hands, make it start raining – _anything, _no matter how irrational, he would do anything to go back in time and stop himself from developing pyromania.

"Stop it, both of you. We just tell them it was me, end of." He said, feigning confidence.

Christine shook her head. "No, no way. I am not letting you go to jail for this. I've got an idea, but I'm not sure if it'll work."

The young couple looked at each other, holding eye contact for what felt like hours. Their feelings towards each other were so clear, and the majority of students at Waterloo Road were jealous of their 'perfect relationship.' Scout would tell Imogen how lucky she was to have Connor because he was so romantic and any idiot could see how much he loved her, and Kevin would say the same to Connor, choosing different words, but the underlying meaning was still there. If only they could see them now; hardly speaking to each other, unable to look each other in the eye and hopelessly trying to find a way to stay out of jail.

Christine stood up, focusing all her efforts on devising a plan. This whole situation should make her itch for alcohol, but it was basically the opposite – the stress and worry took her mind of the intense desire for a drink.

"I don't think you should change your statement, Imogen. Leave it as it is; let them think that you did it." Before Connor could protest, she carried on, turning to face her troubled son. "But, we let them think you did it, too. When they interview you, you tell them that you did it. If you both own up to it, they won't know what to do. They will have to search for evidence. There won't be any fingerprints because the whole room was practically obliterated, and there's no CCTV on the art corridor, thankfully."

Connor felt less than reassured, but Imogen now thought Christine was an absolute genius. She even allowed herself a little smile. "Do you really think that will work?"

"From my experience at different schools, police don't tend to prioritise these types of cases. They don't have much evidence for it to point to arson either, so hopefully they'll just drop it. I don't know if it will work, I really don't… but it's worth a shot."

AN: Let me know how long you would want this to go on for... I've got quite a few ideas for different story lines, but I'm not even sure if anyone is interested so yeah, let me know, and let me know where you want it to go, too. Thanks for reading :-)


	22. Lashing Out

21

Connor had been discharged from the hospital and luckily for him, the police decided to drop the case after becoming increasingly frustrated with the teenagers' lack of co-operation. It was a massive weight off Imogen's shoulders, but Connor was spiralling deeper and deeper into misery and couldn't even manage a smile when he was told the news. He would lie in his bed all day, trying and failing to sleep or just staring into space.

There was a knock on his door. "Back to school today, son, wake up." Christine was incredibly worried, although she refused to show it, instead trying to act as if everything was normal. She'd thought about getting him to speak to a professional, but he wasn't even speaking to Imogen for reasons unbeknownst to her and it had been a challenge to get him to leave his bedroom. "Come on, it won't be that bad, it's just school. You like school." Hearing him groaning in protest, she laughed and made her way downstairs to make some coffee.

Connor reluctantly forced himself out of bed, utterly dreading the day ahead. He just knew that everyone was going to be asking awkward questions about the fire and he wasn't sure if he could handle it. He couldn't even look his girlfriend in the eye, awash with remorse every time he saw the scar on the side of her face. Pulling on the cleanest t-shirt he could find and a pair of shorts, he went downstairs, hoping his mum wouldn't try and give him an amateur counselling session today of all days. His head was throbbing painfully, as it had been ever since he woke up in hospital.

"Get this down you." Christine said, handing him a cup of tea as he sat down at the table in the kitchen. "You look terrible."

"Oh, thanks, makes me feel loads better that does." Connor replied, his words drowning in sarcasm. He took a sip of tea, burning his tongue slightly. "I'm fine anyway, just want to get today over with."

"Have you spoken to Imogen yet?"

Connor winced at the mention of her name. He couldn't hear it without vivid images of the fire bursting unwantedly into his head. He didn't care about the scar, she was still the most beautiful girl he'd ever met and he still loved her regardless, but the stabs of guilt he felt every time she was mentioned were too powerful to cope with. The thought of sharing classes with her today made Connor feel sick. Lost in thought, he'd completely forgotten where he was.

"I take that as a no, then. It was a good thing that she did for you."

Connor could feel the resentment welling up inside him. He didn't need this, especially not today. "You don't understand."

Christine shoved a slice of toast onto a plate and slid it across the table to him, at which Connor looked at in disgust. "No, I don't understand, which is why I just want you to talk to me!" She thought this would be a good time to mention counselling. "I mean, if you don't want to talk to me, there are always other people you can-"

"No! I'm not mental!" He ran a hand through his wild bed-hair. "Sorry. She probably doesn't want to speak to me anyway, not after what I did to her. She's better off without me."

Christine sighed as she watched Connor leave to get ready for school. A voice in her head told her that she might as well have started that fire, she was just as responsible for scarring Imogen as he was; it didn't take a genius to know that her alcoholism was the root cause of his problems.

X

"Alright, mate!" Kevin came bounding over as soon as their car pulled up in the school, full of energy as always. "You're back then?"

Connor got out of the car, already feeling immensely paranoid. "Looks like it."

"Good. I've missed ya, but if anyone asks I _will _deny it."

Christine smiled, before walking off to the staff room, taking comfort in the fact that Connor had a supportive friend in Kevin.

"So, what have I missed then?" Connor asked. He was determined to act like everything was normal, despite every fibre of his body screaming, urging him to go home to the comforting solitude of his bedroom.

"I found some files on Chalky's computer, right, and I found out he changed his name years ago and it all kicked off but we're fine now. Other than that, everyone is mainly talking about you and Scarface."

That was it. The little push he needed to burst. He had never been in a fight before, but there was a first time for everything, right? Without thinking, he swung for Kevin; his fist ruthlessly connecting with Kevin's nose, almost sure that he felt the bone break underneath his knuckles. As soon as he fell to the floor, Connor dragged him back up and pinned him against the wall. "Call her that again, Kevin, and I swear to god I'll break your fucking fingers." It was an empty threat, of course. He wasn't violent and in normal circumstances, he would have just told Kevin to shut up and forgotten about it. But today, with all the self-deprecation he felt because of Imogen's scar, he just lost it.

Kevin was shocked at his mate's outburst, and he could feel warm blood flowing from his nose. A crowd had formed now and just as he was about to retaliate, Mr Clarkson came storming over.

"All of you, get to class right now, the bell has gone!" he said, eyeing Connor furiously as he saw the state of Kevin. "Kevin, go and get cleaned up and then wait outside my office, I'll need to speak to you. And you, young man, you're coming with me."

Connor didn't care how much trouble he was in. He felt numb.

X

"What the hell are you playing at?" Christine said, disbelievingly. She had been hearing rumours all day in lessons of some fight between Connor and Kevin (she had heard all sorts; apparently Kevin had a broken nose and that Connor was going to be kicked out, but she knew students exaggerated) and all she wanted to do was go and find out what had happened, but she was teaching until morning break. When the bell went, she marched straight down the cooler to see what was going on.

Connor stayed quiet, fiddling with his pen until Christine got irritated and snatched it out of his hands. "Are you still here?" he said, childishly.

"Yes, I am, and I'm not leaving until you tell me why you decided to punch your best friend. So, you either stop ignoring me and start talking or we sit here all day. I can be just as stubborn as you, sunshine."

He threw her his best dirty look. To be honest, he didn't understand why he was so angry with her. It was his fault, the whole stupid mess. His girlfriend was being called horrible names by idiotic, shallow, so-called friends because of him and yet here he was, wallowing in his own self-pity when she must be feeling utterly horrific. The one thing he wanted to do to relieve all this stress and self-hatred was unavailable now, but it didn't stop that raw _longing_, that pure, unadulterated _need_…

"Leave me alone." He mumbled, eager to get rid of her so he could get his head together.

"I've already told you, not until you tell me what's going on!"

Connor stood up forcefully, unable to stay in this gradually more claustrophobic room. "Oh, just fuck off, Mum! I've never needed you, so what makes you think I do now?"

He stormed out of the cooler aggressively, leaving Christine appalled at the way he'd spoken to her, upset that he didn't want her help. She was trying, and that was something, wasn't it?

Connor knew he was going to be in even more trouble for doing a runner, but he couldn't care less.

He didn't know where he was going, but he knew exactly what he needed to do.


	23. Reunited For Long?

Connor aimed to get straight to the corner shop, buy a throwaway lighter and solve his problems with fire, like he'd grown so accustomed to. He felt like a fraud – all these years spent begging his mum to stop drinking yet the minute he had to face up to his own demons he gave up and let the urge sap away his willpower. He was weak, and he hated himself for it.

"Hey." He recognised that voice straight away, and his heart dropped. He turned around to face the one thing he didn't want to – Imogen, and her scar. "Shouldn't you be in the cooler, Rocky?"

_How can she act so normal after what I did?_ "I sort of just swore at my mum and did a runner, so I reckon I'm in more trouble than I already was."

Imogen smiled a beautiful grin that reached her eyes, and made Connor's heart jump. "If you did a runner, why are you still here?"

"I was on my out when you interrupted, so if you'll excuse me… I'm off." He explained rudely. He hated treating her like this but it was the only way to get her to move on, to find someone she deserves to be with. He spun round and carried on walking, but he could feel her eyes boring into the back of his head.

"Why are you being such a dick?" she half-shouted, running down the corridor after him. "What have I done wrong?"

Connor felt a sharp pang of guilt protrude through his body. It wasn't her fault, it was never her fault. Her only fault was falling in love with a messed-up boy. Sighing, he turned around to face her, careful not to look at the scar. "I'm doing you a favour, Imogen. You can go and find someone else. Someone you deserve."

"I don't want anyone else, you idiot. I want you." Imogen's voice softened as she saw the sheer amount of sadness that danced in his eyes.

"How could you possibly want me? Look what I did to you." He gently touched her scar.

"You didn't set out to hurt me, though, that's the difference. It was all a mistake, and one that you need to stop beating yourself up about, okay? I want the old Connor back. The one who likes to draw and swaps Stephen King books with me and the one who stays up all night texting me and then falls asleep in lesson… I know he's there." She said, prodding him lightly in the stomach.

For the first time in a while, Connor smiled.

"There we go, see! That wasn't hard now, was it?" Imogen giggled, throwing her arms around his neck and pulling him in for a kiss.

Connor pulled away, enjoying the feeling of genuine happiness. "I love you."

"I love you too. Now, I think you'd better get out of here, because there is a very angry looking English teacher heading in our direction."

Sure enough, behind them, Christine was walking down the corridor, not looking to happy. She hadn't noticed the young couple yet though, so realising this was his chance to get out, Connor look at Imogen and said "Do you want to come with me?"

Imogen nodded, with a twinkle in her eyes. She hardly ever truanted, but this was with good reason. She would go to the moon and back if it meant making Connor happy. Hand in hand, they hastily slipped out unseen.

"Where do you want to go?" Imogen said, realising they had no plans whatsoever.

Connor hadn't really thought about it; he just wanted to get out of school. "I don't know... my house? Actually, no, I don't want to be at mine when my mum gets back. I'm going to have to avoid her at all costs."

"I'm sure she won't be too angry, she knows you're going through a lot." Imogen gripped his hand just a little bit tighter, and squeezed comfortingly.

They crossed the road, heading towards town. The sky was darkening and it looked like it was going to rain, but the air was still warm.

"I just feel bad. I feel bad about everything. Like, I punched Kevin, and I never fight."

"Why did you hit him, anyway?" Imogen asked.

Connor tensed. He didn't want her to think people were saying horrible things behind her back because of something he caused. "You don't want to know."

They came to a pub called The Swan, which was known for its notoriously easy way to get served. Most of Greenock's underage drinkers spent their lives there, and although Connor had decided long ago that he didn't drink, they went in. It was cosy in there, and it was getting chilly outside. They sat down at a table in the corner, right next to the log fire.

"Yeah, I do. He's your best mate, something must have happened."

"Alright, but don't take it personally, you know what Kev's like." he acquiesced. "He called you Scarface." Connor saw Imogen's face drop and felt yet another surge of anger towards Kevin. How dare he make her feel like that? "Don't get upset about it, Im." He leaned over and brushed a stray hair from her face. "You're the most beautiful girl in the whole school, with or without a stupid scar."

He wasn't trying to justify what Kevin had said, but he didn't want her to feel self-conscious or ugly, not for one second. To him, it didn't matter what people thought, as long as they had each other. Despite his best efforts to comfort her, Imogen was devastated. She stood up impulsively, and walked straight to the door, before turning to look at a confused Connor. "I'm sorry… I can't do this."

Connor automatically followed her, refusing to let their relationship come to an end just as soon as things were back on track. She was already halfway down the street when he got outside. "Imogen! What do you mean? I thought we were alright!"

Imogen stopped, and turned round. She was crying, and had tiny smudges of black mascara around her eyes. "We are… I don't know, Connor! Can you not see how hard this is for me? I know you didn't want anyone to get hurt in that fire, but I did, Con, I did, and I have to live with this," she told him emotionally, gesturing to her scar. "I have to live with this for the rest of my life, and I don't know if I can do that with you."

Connor tried to move closer to her, but she backed away. "So that's it then? We're over because you can't handle people taking the mick out of you? Imogen, there's always a chance you can get surgery to get rid of it, but I have to live with the guilt for the rest of my life, and I'm telling you, that's much, much worse."

Imogen saw a bus going in the direction of her house coming down the street. "I have to go. I'm not saying we're over; I just need some space. I need to sort my head out."

As she crossed the road, Connor shouted desperately. "I'm sorry!" But it was too late, she was gone.

Since they patched things up at school this morning, the urge for fire had evaporated. It was as if Imogen was the water to his flames, just like when Christine was drinking, he thought she was the antidote to his mother's poison. Connor kicked the side of the curb, angrily, cursing himself for ruining the one good thing he had in his life, before reluctantly making his way home.

X

Connor hadn't realised the time and his heart dropped when he saw the car parked outside their house. He contemplated just ignoring his mum completely; acting like a stereotypical moody teenager, marching upstairs and locking himself in his bedroom, but deep down, he really did want to apologize to her. He took off his coat and hung it up casually on the banister, before going into the kitchen where Christine was just re-entering, he guessed from having a cigarette. He gave her his best sheepish smile, hoping that she knew he really was sorry.

"Where have you been?" She asked, in a neutral tone that Connor despised. He couldn't work out whether she was angry or not.

"I just… went for a walk. I needed to clear my head."

She narrowed her eyes. "You know you're in a lot of trouble for walking out like that. Michael wanted to suspend you for a week."

"What did you say?" he asked, tentatively. He was balancing on the edge of getting a criminal record if he wasn't careful, and he needed to stay in schools good books.

"I tried to persuade him not to, but he wouldn't listen, and then he spoke to Kevin and he asked him not to exclude you. He's a good mate, you know, you should apologize to him."

He remembered the heartbroken look on Imogen's face after he told her what Kevin had said and got ready to rant furiously, but he bit his tongue and stayed silent, opting instead to calmly stare out of the kitchen window.

"I'm sorry… about what I said earlier. I do need you. I'd probably be in a cell right now if it wasn't for you, and I'm not exactly acting grateful, am I? I'm basically the worst son in the world."

His self-pitying mood amused Christine. "Don't be so dramatic. You're the best son I could have wished for, sweetheart. Just don't take it out on the people who want to help you, yeah?"


	24. Scout Has A Plan

Imogen didn't realise, but her decision to end it all with Connor was affecting more than just the two teenagers; they were both constantly taking their misery out on the people who didn't deserve it. School was difficult – they were in the same classes and had the same group of friends, so bumping into each other was inevitable. When it happened, the awkward atmosphere as they tried to make friendly small talk was excruciating, so much so that they had taken to just ignoring each other. They still loved each other, though, and everyone around them just wanted to bang their heads together and tell them to grow up and admit it. As Mr Chalk rambled on about the importance of knowing how to do percentages in everyday life, Scout was becoming more and more annoyed with the lack of distracting conversation she was getting from Imogen, who was sat next to her.

"Earth to Imogen…" she whispered.

"What?" Imogen replied, clearly too busy feeling sorry for herself to listen to her friend.

"You've been quiet all day, and I can put up with that, but I really need you to entertain me during Chalk's lessons or I might just die." She always did exaggerate, but it was essential for getting her point across.

"I'm sorry; I'm just not in the mood."

"Imogen, you're never in the mood lately. Can't you and Connor just patch things up? It doesn't take a genius to realise you're both miserable without each other." Scout always was straight to the point. Both girls picked up their pens and pretended to be interested in their work after Mr Chalk noticed them chatting and asked them to quieten down.

Imogen glanced over to the front of the classroom to see if he was looking. "It's not as simple as that."

Scout rolled her eyes. "It must be hard, with the fire and everything, but no relationship is perfect."

As the bell went, Imogen snapped, "Scout, just leave it!" before throwing her jacket over her arm, grabbing her bag and storming out, wishing everyone would stop thinking they know best.

X

Over in the English block, Connor was equally unhappy. His view that the world hated him was cemented by the fact that, arriving late to lesson, the only seat free was next to Kevin, who he hadn't spoken to since their altercation.

"Okay class, settle down please. Today, we need to focus on To Kill a Mockingbird as the coursework deadline is next week. I'm going to start off by asking some random questions relating to the book to refresh your memories." Mrs Mulgrew explained to the class, asking Dynasty to pick a major quote and annotate it on the board.

Connor let the voices fade into the background, choosing instead to stare out of the window uninterestedly, trying his hardest to ignore the thickening tense atmosphere between him and his ex-best friend. He did miss having Kevin around – he was Connor's first proper best mate; he'd never had time for them at any of his old schools because covering for Christine's alcoholism took higher priority – but he was too stubborn to apologise first.

"You should lighten up." Kevin said suddenly, as if he had read Connors mind. "The only person you've got to blame for your problems is yourself."

Connor wasn't expecting Kevin to speak to him, and it took him by surprise but he wasn't in the mood for any kind of happy reunion. "Oh, piss off. Who do you think you are, Gandhi?"

"Oh charming, somehow I'm in the wrong even though you broke _my_ nose."

"Yeah, and I'd do it again right now, mate." He replied, using all the strength in his body not to get angry. "You were out of order."

Christine noticed the escalating argument going on in the corner, and knowing things could spiral out of control due to her son's perpetual bad mood and newfound violent temper, she decided to intervene. "Kevin, can you tell me the significance of Dill Harris in the book?"

He decided to use the question to his advantage, indiscreetly aiming his answer at Connor.

"I think he represents friendship, Miss. He's a good mate to Scout and Jem, isn't he…" He looked at Connor. "I don't think he'd ever do anything to hurt them, you know, like breaking one of their noses and not even bothering to apologise."

Not wanting to get in anymore trouble but getting more and more riled, Connor was fighting to stay calm. He just stared out of the window, completely ignoring Kevin's remarks.

"Yes, okay Mr Skelton, thank-you." Christine hastily began to change the subject, but was cut off by the bell for next lesson. "Kevin, can I have a word?"

"Three guesses to what about." Connor said, sarcastically, earning himself a sharp look from Christine before heading to his next lesson.

Before she could speak to Kevin, a flustered looking Scout barged into the classroom.

"Kev, I'm proper glad you're here." she said in that strong accent of hers, sitting down casually on a table.

"What's going on?" Christine asked, going to sit behind her desk.

"I need your help, Miss. I need both of your help."

Kevin stuffed his hands into his pockets. "I don't like the sound of this. What's up?"

"Imogen is absolutely doing my head in, right, and by the looks of Connor he's not exactly Mr Cheerful either. I just said hello to him in the corridor and he looked at me like I'd just told a toddler that Father Christmas doesn't exist!"

Christine laughed, knowing exactly what Scout was talking about; she'd had that look thrown at her a fair few times. Kevin, on the other hand, was still confused. "What's this got to do with me?"

"Well, I've had a thought. We're their best friends, aren't we?" she started to explain, excitedly, clearly proud of her idea, before being cut off.

Kevin stood up. "Whoa, don't drag me into this, Scout. He's not my problem anymore, not until he says sorry."

"Oh, get over yourself, Skelton; I've heard what you said about Imogen. If anything, you deserved it!"

Relenting, Kevin sighed, sat back down and gestured for Scout to speak.

"As I was saying, Imogen is acting dead depressed and I'm pretty sure Connor's a nightmare to live with at the moment, right Miss? I reckon we need to get them back together before we end up with anymore broken noses."

"How exactly are you going to do that? They're not even speaking to each other." Christine asked.

"That's where you come in, Miss." Scout smiled with a glint of mischief in her eye.

"Oh, no, I'm not getting involved." She didn't want to be a part of it in case it backfired.

Scout protested. "It's nothing big! All I need you to do is get him to come to your classroom at the end of the day, and I'll tell Imogen that she has to come and see you to get the work that she missed while she was at the dentist."

Kevin couldn't really see much point or logic in Scouts plan. "Then what are you going to do? You can hardly just lock them in, they'll kill each other."

"Yes, I can, and that's exactly what I plan to do!"


	25. Apologies

AN: If you read the other version of this, read this one because I've changed it, cheers. X

Despite being incredibly amused by Scout's determination to get the young couple back together and Kevin's frustration at being held here against his will (apparently he really wanted to get to Maths, but Scout refused to let him go. "Mr Chalk is your foster Dad; you're hardly going to get kicked out so shut up."), Christine forced the teenagers to get to their lesson before they got her into trouble. Scout flounced away, feeling like her idea was being severely under-rated and Kevin just mooched off, annoyed that he'd been kept from his favourite subject for no reason. They walked together in silence but just as they got to the maths classroom, Scout collared Kevin.

"Try and make some effort with him, yeah?" she whispered, referring to Connor. "Once you're back on speaking terms, you can sort him out and I can sort Imogen out and then we can all sort this huge mess out, alright?"

Kevin shrugged as they entered; he saw Mr Budgen sat sleep at Chalky's desk, nodding off. He made a mental note to ask Chalky why he wasn't in lesson when he got home. Everyone was clustered together in little groups, pretending to work but having quiet little chats about the latest gossip. Connor stuck out like a sore thumb, sat at the back on his own with his head on the desk and when Kevin noticed him, he realised this was his chance.

"I would ask whether I could sit here but I won't bother because I'm going to anyway." Kevin joked, hoping to start the ball rolling.

Connor sat up, running a hand through his messy hair. "Look, whatever my mum said to you, can you just ignore her, please? I'm not in the mood."

"I'm trying to sort things out between us, mate. It has nothing to do with what your mum said. She couldn't get a word in edgeways over Scout rambling on." He saw Connors face twist into confusion but decided now was not the time to explain. "It doesn't matter. I suppose I just… miss you being around, a bit. There's only so long a guy can put up with Dynasty Barry talking about acrylic nails without spontaneously combusting."

Connor knew Kevin had been tutoring Dynasty for a while now, and a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he pictured the scene – Kevin trying and failing to teach Dynasty about fractions. "Are you and her together now then?"

"I don't really know, if I'm honest. We're really different people, but they say opposites attract, don't they? I don't think I could put up with the whole protective brother thing from Barry, though." He chuckled. "Wait a sec… I think this is the first time we've spoken to each other civilly since you punched me."

Grimacing at the mention of last week, Connor shook his head to try and forget about it. "I shouldn't have hit you. You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time and I took all my anger out on you."

"Is that your way of apologising?"

"That's the best you're going to get - your turn."

"I don't think it's you I need to apologise to." Kevin nodded toward the front of the classroom where Imogen was sat with Scout and Dynasty, feeling guilty when he saw Connor's face fall. "I don't understand why you two finished… everyone thought you'd be one of those couples that get together in their teens and end up married."

Mr Budgen told everyone to quieten down in his own furiously malevolent way. Connor attempted to steer the conversation away from Imogen, because every time he thought about her it felt like someone was twisting a knife in his heart and then proceeding to drag it all the way down his body. "I reckon I'll be living alone with a cat when I'm Budgen's age. Not even with a cat, actually. I don't even like cats."

"What, you really think you'll make it to 150?" Both boys burst into fits of uncontrollable laughter. What Kevin had said wasn't particularly funny but they were just happy to be getting on again.

They didn't realise just how loud they were being until they heard by the hilariously irritated voice of Mr Budgen. "Can a man not cover a lesson in peace without being interrupted by two acne-ridden hormones?"

Kevin automatically reverted to the cheeky-chappy persona he had adopted to cover up his intelligence. "Sorry, sir. We were just talking about how old you are. I mean, you're a scientific breakthrough. You're a living, breathing fossil."

"I refuse to put up with your tedious rambling. Mr Chalk had better have a brilliant explanation for his sudden disappearance. You two, get to the cooler." Connor and Kevin grabbed their things and left, leaving a ever miserable Grantly Budgen muttering to himself about the joys of teaching.


	26. Party

The glowing ball of orange in the sky was setting softly, even though it was only five o'clock, projecting a warm and comfortable atmosphere over the town of Greenock. Hoards of students from the local schools and sixth forms were still making their way home exhaustedly after a long day, eagerly imagining the endless cups of tea they can drink while watching repeats of The Jeremy Kyle Show. Connor was walking along the promenade, remembering with a pang that this was where Imogen saw him struggling to drive his drunken mother home after their first day at Waterloo Road. He came here sometimes to clear his head; the crashing of the waves relaxed him, took his mind of things and it was like he alone, alone without a single trouble. He wondered whether he attracted bad luck – he was sure everything would be okay once his mum stopped drinking, but instead he felt as if his problems had intensified. The one thing that kept him sane had been taken away from him, and every day was a struggle, especially now he didn't even have Imogen to confide in. The freezing air from the sea was making itself known now, so Connor buttoned up his coat and sat down carelessly on one of the empty benches. He pulled out his phone, unlocking the screen and making a mental note to change his background picture which was still him and Imogen. Opening the Facebook app, he read the most recent statuses.

_Rhiannon Salt: On my way to see my brother for the first time in years! _

_3 likes, 2 comments: _

_Scout: Good luck, you better tell him I think he's fit. _

_Rhiannon: I already said he's way out of your league. _

Connor rolled his eyes at the comments, but deep down he was happy for Rhiannon. He knew the importance of family more than anyone, and he couldn't understand anyone who didn't appreciate theirs.

_Imogen Stewart: I seriously need to get out of this house before I kill my mother. _

_5 likes, 1 comment: _

_Dynasty: Check your inboxes, babe. _

Sure enough, the moment Connor read the comment, his notifications flashed to tell him he too had an inbox. He tapped it and brought up the message from Dynasty.

_Dynasty: I've got a free house tonight and I'm having a few people round. Fancy it? _

_Connor: Maybe. Imogen will be there, won't she? I don't want to ruin her night by making things awkward. _

_Dynasty: She said she's coming, yeah. There'll be other people there though; you don't even have to speak to her if you don't want to. You're staying friends aren't you? _

_Connor: We are yeah, but we've only just split up. I'll probably come. What time? _

_Dynasty: Everyone will be getting here for 7ish, it will just finish whenever. You can crash here if you like. Do you know where I live?_

_Connor: Okay __ and__ no, but I'll meet Kev on the way and he can show me. See ya later. _

In a way, he was glad for the offer. It was something to take his mind of everything, and even though Imogen being there was going to be a constant reminder, maybe he could use it to his advantage and try and win her back, hopefully without embarrassing himself in the process. Grabbing his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, he quickly walked home and changed into some black skinny jeans and a t-shirt, donning his usual trademark cardigan. He was trying to pass the time by watching telly when his mum entered.

"Going out?" she asked, hoping for some actual conversation out of him rather than the grunts and nods she had been getting lately.

"I'm going to Dynasty's. She's having a few people round."

"Oh yeah, what's the occasion?"

"Nothing, her mum is in Liverpool visiting family or something."

Christine knew what was really going on, she wasn't daft – she'd been a teenager once. "So it's a party then?"

"I don't know! Is this twenty questions or something?" Connor said, agitatedly. He stood up and made his way to the door. "I'm going."

"Wait. I'm trying to talk to you!"

He backtracked reluctantly, sitting back down on the sofa, trying his hardest to look as uninterested as possible. "What?"

"You sorted it with Kevin, then?"

"Yeah." Connor was unsure why he was being so un-cooperative. His mum had done nothing wrong except trying to be there for him. He supposed that after all these years; he was just struggling to adjust to her being nice and supportive. "Can I go now?"

Not wanting this to escalate into a full blown argument, she nodded and watched him leave, before shouting a final "Don't be in too late, Connor!"

X

Connor and Kevin met near the off-license at 7, and began walking through the chilly night air to the Barry's house.

"What are you drinking?" Kevin asked Connor, while texting on his phone.

It was always the part he dreaded about parties, not that he went to many; the peer pressure to drink. He swore he wouldn't because he knew all too well how alcohol can destroy lives, but his decision always made him the outcast. "I'm not. I don't drink."

"Come on, mate. You can have a couple. If you're worried about what your mum would say Dynasty has already said we can crash at hers. I've got a bottle of vodka in my bag if you wanna share that. Anyway, I'm sure you were the one that fell of his chair in Clarkson's lesson because he was so drunk!"

Kevin didn't know it, but drinking that day was a last-ditch, desperate attempt to make Christine see how much her alcoholism was affecting him. It resulted in nothing but a headache, and an angry confrontation when they got home. She asked him what he thought he was playing at and he calmly explained to her that he was just following her motherly example. That well and truly shut her up, but, of course, it didn't stop her from drinking. The two teenagers realised they'd made it to the Barry's as soon as they heard the dance music blaring, wildly. Dynasty greeted Connor with a smile and told him to go in and make himself at home, before throwing her arms around Kevin, pulling him into a tight hug. Connor chuckled. He couldn't imagine them together, but paradoxically, they suited each other immensely.

Kacey Barry was in the kitchen by herself, looking annoyed. She grabbed a paper cup; poured god knows what into it and shoved it into Connor's hands. "They would only let me stay if I gave everyone drinks for the first hour, reckon I'm too young for a house party." Her tone was full of friendly sibling resentment, the kind that sounded serious but never actually was. "Drinks are on us, by the way, get whatever you want… Barry was owed a favour."

Without thinking, he accepted the drink and gulped the contents down. The alcohol affected him straight away, gushing cosily through his body, leaving him with a tingling feeling at the back of his head. He automatically grabbed a bottle of vodka and filled his cup halfway, and then drowning it in diet coke. "Cheers, where is everyone?"

She pointed towards what he could only assume was the living room, and Connor inquisitively entered, scanning the room immediately for Imogen. All the furniture had been moved to create a homemade dance-floor which was currently full of rambunctious, tipsy teenagers; some of which he recognised, others who were absolute strangers. He felt awkwardly out of place, not really knowing which group to tag along with. Luckily, or unluckily for him, Imogen sought him out, nervously.

"Hey." she shouted, fighting to be heard over the music and the rabble of people. "I thought you didn't drink."

"I don't normally, but… why not?" he smiled friendlily, but he absolutely hated the awkward tension between himself and the girl he loved, the person he was once closest to.

"Be careful, it'll go straight to your head."

"Since when were you an expert?" It came out a bit more snappily than Connor had intended.

"I'm just saying. I bet your mum won't be too happy." Imogen was trying really hard to make nice, normal conversation but when two people who love each other are purposely trying to stay away from each other, things naturally get difficult. Before Connor could reply, Imogen went back into the kitchen.

The night passed quite swiftly, with the drinks flowing merrily and thankfully, no trouble breaking out. Connor was by himself most of the night, with the exception of a couple of forced conversations with drunken girls from different schools trying to chat him up. He had no interest in them, whatsoever, until he noticed a tipsy-looking Imogen dancing flirtatiously with Jack McAllister. Seething jealously, he stormed into the kitchen to refill his drink.

"What's up, lad?"

Connor would never have classed Barry Barry as a mate, but due to having consumed a lot of strong vodka that night, he struck up conversation with him. "Girls."

Barry, who was drinking whisky straight from the bottle, rested his weight on the table next to Connor. "Imogen?" he asked, sensing an opportunity.

"She's not even bothered is she? You should have seen her, throwing herself at Jack." He put his drink on the table. "I'm going to go and say something."

"Whoa, whoa, mate, you don't want to do anything you'll regret in the morning. Just calm down, I'll have a word with her."

In his intoxicated state, Connor thought this was the best idea in the world. For some reason, he forgot all about the fact that only a couple of months ago, the Liverpudlian bad-boy had tried to blackmail his mum. "What will you say?"

"You just leave it to me, lad. I'll sort everything out for you, don't worry." Barry's eyes lit up with a mischievous, trouble-making glint. He would sort it out. Oh, was he going to sort it out…


	27. Breaking

The rabble of people was starting to thin out now, due to the time and Dynasty fretting with paranoia, attempting to kick everyone out in fear that the police would turn up and do it instead. She was running around hastily, picking up empty cans and plastic cups and throwing them in the black bin bag that she was carrying around like an accessory. Kevin was trying to calm her down, reassuring her that it would all be fine and everyone would help tidy up in the morning, but she wouldn't listen. Her stress intensified when she noticed Barry stalk confidently into the living room with the trouble-making look she knew all to well plastered on his face. She ran up to him and grabbed him by the arm.

"What are you doing? Get off!"

"I'm just saying, don't even think about kicking off, you flea." Dynasty threw him her best serious look, pursing her lips and then leaving him alone to carry on cleaning.

Barry shook his head as he watched her go, wishing she would be as laid back as he is with the whole thing. Even Kacey was enjoying herself, but he eyed her suspiciously when he saw her getting quite close to some strange new girl from school. He was too keen to put his plan into action to worry about his little sister, though, and glanced around the room to find out where Imogen, his target, was. Imogen was perched on the couch alone, staring into space. It was one of them moments when you sit down by yourself at a party and you realise how drunk you actually are; the realisation that you're going to be awfully hungover in the morning makes you regret getting in this state. She was struggling with her emotions too - it was as if the alcohol highlighted the feelings that she wanted to forget tonight, even if for one night only. Before this, she hadn't ever drank this much. She liked to be in control of herself and refused to make a fool out of herself like all the other girls did, but when Dynasty told her about the party, she grabbed the opportunity with open arms. The feelings she had towards Connor were so overwhelming, and she didn't know what to do about them. Deep down, all she wanted to do was tell him she loved him and hope the feeling was reciprocated. After all the messing about she'd done, Imogen had started to wonder whether he even liked her any more and it broke her heart.

"Alright, babe?" Barry sat down next to Imogen, still clutching his trusty bottle of whisky.

She took a swig of her drink. "Go away, Barry, I'm not in the mood."

"You seemed pretty in the mood when you were all over Jack." he drawled, in that deliciously thick accent of his.

Imogen's defensive side automatically switched on. "I was not all over him! What's it got to do with you, anyway?"

"I was just talking to Connor in the kitchen." Previously uninterested in what he had to say, Imogen's ears pricked up at the mention of the ex-boyfriend she still loved.

"What about him?"

"Well, I didn't really want to be the one to tell you this." He edged closer to the young teenager, so much so that Imogen could feel his warm breath on her face; it sent shivers down her spine. "I mean, you're a beautiful girl, aren't you?" he whispered, making her feel more and more uncomfortable with each word. She attempted to push him away, but he was too strong and he sinisterly planted a soft kiss on her neck. "You deserve better than him."

"Barry... get away from me right now. I'm not scared of you." Imogen knew just how psychotic he could be at the best of times and didn't want to say anything to provoke him. "Tell me what Connor said."

To her relief, Barry moved away but stayed silent for a few moments. "Look... he was in a right state when I last saw him. He saw you dancing with Jack and was threatening to punch him and everything, I mean, he was really, really angry." he lied, trying to keep the smirk of his face.

"That doesn't sound like Connor." She knew to take what Barry was saying with a pinch of salt. "What happened?"

"I don't wanna say... it was awful."

Becoming increasingly riled, Imogen felt herself starting to get angry."Tell me!"

"Okay, okay... but don't kick off, yeah? Our Dyn's already got her knickers in a twist about this whole party thing. I managed to stop Connor from saying somethin' to Jack, but then he started ranting at me about you. Saying all sorts of horrible things."

"Like what?"

"He was saying you were a slut, that you have no self-respect and that he regrets ever having anything to do with you. Reckon's he's well rid of you because he can do so much better. Said he could have had pick of the girls tonight, but he didn't 'cause he's the better person."

Imogen knew Connor better than most people, so she knew how out of character this all sounded but unluckily for her, the alcohol she had consumed was clouding her judgement. She looked at Barry, who had plastered on his best fake sympathetic smile and contemplated what she was going to do. As she thought about what he'd told her, she felt sharp bouts of fury washing ferociously through her body. Yes, she messed him around by getting back with him and then finishing with him the same day, but that was no excuse to talk about her like that, especially after she risked her future to save his skin. If it wasn't for her, he could possibly be languishing in jail right now. The pure cheek of him! How dare he say she has no self-respect? She'd slept with one boy in her whole life and compared to some of the girls in school, that made her a saint. Infuriated, she stood up and took one last glance at Barry. "Is he still in the kitchen?" Barry nodded and as he watched Imogen storm angrily towards the kitchen, he sat back on the sofa and took a large swig of whisky, proud of his latest escapade.

Connor had completely forgotten about his mood swing not so long ago; he was distracted by a flustered-looking Dynasty who had ordered him to look after Kevin, who'd just thrown up in the garden. It sobered Connor up a little, suddenly remembering all the times he had had to look after his mother when she was in states similar to this. He sat Kevin down at the table, gave him a glass of water and proceeded to get himself one, deciding it had been one big mistake to drink tonight. It didn't solve problems, it complicated them - as he was about to find out. As he was taking a sneaky picture of Kevin asleep on the table for future (friendly) blackmail purposes, a teary-eyed Imogen ran up to him and without thinking, slapped him hard around the face.

"What the fu-" Connor began, clutching his reddening cheek and grimacing in pain.

Imogen flew out of the room without saying a word; she grabbed her jacket and left, closely followed by a bewildered Connor.

"Imogen!"

She ignored him.

"Imogen, wait! What the hell was all that about?" he shouted after her, jogging to catch up as she was already halfway down the street.

When she turned around, tears were running down her face, leaving tiny dots of black mascara around the curves of her uniquely green eyes.

"Don't you EVER call me a slut again."

"What are you talking about? I would never!" With a pang, he remembered his conversation with Barry. "Oh, did Barry tell you I said that?" The emotional girl said nothing, and Connor took that as a yes. "And you believed him?"

"I've messed you about, Connor, and you've been drinking, so yeah, I believe him. It might have just been the drink talking but it doesn't give you the right to slag me off like that!"

The guilt he already felt for drinking when he swore he would never personified as he heard her words. How could she just discard their whole relationship, their whole _friendship_ because of the lies some narcissistic, borderline socio-path had fed her? "Imogen, you've got to listen to me! He's lying!"

"Are you really so egotistical that you think he would go out of his way to get to you?"

"That's my point, Imogen!" He ran a hand through his hair, exasperatedly. "You know me, at one point you knew me better than my own mum, for God sake. I would never say something like that, and deep down, you know that."

"Connor, you say that, but I don't really know you at all, do I? You didn't even tell me about your pyromania and look what happened there!" Imogen pointed to her scar and guilt spread through her for bringing it up; she knew how much it hurt him, but the underlying resentment she had been carrying towards him and finally come to boiling point.

"I couldn't tell _anyone. _I was ashamed, I felt like a freak! Look, I know you don't want to get back with me... it's not what I want but if it makes you happy then I'll accept that, because all I want more than anything is your happiness, Im." He bit his tongue to prevent himself from saying 'I love you.' He really loved her, and probably always would, but saying it now would throw a spanner into the works of an already complicated situation.

"You're right. I don't want to get back with you." She wiped a stray tear from her cheek. "I don't want anything more to do with you."

Instantly regretting her words, Imogen ran off towards her house, even though she was supposed to be staying at Dynasty's tonight - she couldn't face Barry, not now, not ever. He might have just single-handedly destroyed any chances she had of getting back with Connor and she despised Barry for making her snap like that.

Connor was distraught. The alcohol had almost completely worn off, leaving him with nothing but a headache and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. He suddenly remembered why he decided not to drink - it doesn't help bad situations and almost always causes trouble. All the melancholy emotions that he'd felt in the weeks after the fire were flooding back, and Imogen's words were ringing painfully in his ears. Half of him was tempted to barge back into the party and have it out with Barry, but Connor was no fighter and he would be fooling himself if he thought he could take on someone like Barry Barry. Worst of all, the other half of him was craving fire; most of the people at the party smoked and it would be simple for him to get a lighter... it took all of his strength to pick himself up of the wall he was sat on and walk home.

X

When you're as troubled as Connor was, walking home alone is pretty bad idea. It gives you chance to be alone with your thoughts and nothing good ever comes from that; it does nothing but intensify your problems. Connor was wound up to say the least, so much so that as soon as he got back to his house, he burst into the kitchen (not even bothering to be quiet, even though he knew his mum would be in bed and she wouldn't be happy with him coming in so late, especially on a school night) in search of a lighter. He knew there would be one around somewhere, and he haphazardly threw open every drawer and every cupboard until he found one. He opened the back door and stood against the wall, breathing in and out calmly in a half-hearted attempt to regulate his breathing. One click of the contraption was all it took - that single, majestic flame helped him more than anything else possibly could; flames gave him relief, but since the fire, every time he used it to solve his problems, he felt nothing but anger and disappointment toward himself. It was a vicious circle.

"Connor?" A dishevelled looking Christine joined him in the garden, wearing pyjama's and a thick dressing gown. She noticed the lighter in his hand and quickly snatched it away from him. "What the hell are you playing at?"

Connor rested his weight on the wall, and closed his eyes. After a while, he opened them and looked at his worried mum with wide, emotional eyes. He was unsure how to react - he wanted to get the lighter back and engulf their whole garden in flames, but he also wanted, no, he _needed_ to tell her how he was feeling and ask her for help. Before he could speak, Christine took it up on herself.

"I thought you'd stopped all this. Was the fire at the school not a big enough wake up call for you?" She was trying her hardest not to get angry, she could see how distressed he looked, but she couldn't bear the thought of him doing anything stupid and winding up in a jail cell. "Talk to me, Connor. What's going on?"

"I-I can't do it, Mum." he stuttered, quietly. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Live without something that you have depended on for so long."

Christine sighed, knowing exactly what he was talking about - the drink. "I just do, son. I have to. For you, for me, for everyone around me. I wasn't a nice person, and I know I'm far from perfect now but... you're going to be okay, Connor, trust me."

In a sorrowful voice that broke Christine's heart in two, Connor looked at her with teary eyes and mumbled, "Can you help me, Mum?"

Pulling him into a comforting hug, she whispered her reassurances. "You're going to get through this, sweetheart, I promise." and led him inside out of the cold. Seeing him in this state did nothing to dampen her guilt for neglecting him all these years, and she mentally swore never to let him down again.


	28. The Morning After The Night Before

Sunlight beamed into Connor's bedroom from the small crack in his curtains. After tossing and turning all night, he eventually gave up and resigned himself to playing a one-sided staring competition with his ceiling - he found that the mildly painful stinging in his eyes took his mind of the roaring argument he'd had with Imogen just hours ago. He had been checking his phone every ten minutes in the vain hope that she would text him, even if it was an argumentative message, he would find comfort in the fact that he was on her mind, because, god, was she on his. Unsurprisingly, there was no new messages and he decided to drag himself out of bed. He jumped in the shower to wash away the remnants of last night, the hot water burning away his lingering headache. After a little while, he got out, dried off and got dressed, before making his way downstairs, cringing with every step as he remembered his mini breakdown to his mum last night. Connor found her in the kitchen, humming softly to the radio as he was hit by the unmistakable smell of burnt toast and coffee.

Christine smiled as she noticed him enter, but that soon faded as she saw how pale he looked. "You're up early, love."

Connor sat down at the table; he was embarrassed about breaking down like that last night - for the majority of his life, he had looked after himself perfectly well and to fall apart so easily in front of someone close to him was a massive stab at his pride. "I couldn't sleep." He mentally wrestled with his mind, unsure whether to bring last night up or not. Deciding against it, he realised his mum must have been thinking the same thing because after a few minutes of comfortable silence, she took it upon herself to mention it.

"So, are you going to tell me what happened at that party?"

Connor looked up confusedly. "What do you mean?"

"Well, something must have happened to upset you like that." She placed a cup of tea in front of him, and took a seat opposite, determined to get him to open up once and for all. "It scared me to see you like that."

"It's a long story." Connor said simply. He couldn't be bothered with her going 'all Oprah' on him.

"I've got time."

"I just don't want to talk about it, Mum."

Christine could hear the sadness in his voice and she could see it behind his eyes, but without sounding callous, she didn't care much. Well, of course she cared, but she knew more than anyone how wrong it is to bottle away your feelings - for her, those feelings manifested themselves into a dependency on alcohol but she knew that with the dangerous way her son copes with things, there could be much, much worse consequences for him.

"Tough. You're going to talk to me about it, whether you like it or not." Although her words were harsh, she spoke gently and Connor managed to relax a little.

Taking a deep breath, he quickly thought about how he could tell his mum that he was hit by his ex-girlfriend without making Imogen seem like the bad person, and without making himself look like an idiot. "Basically, it involves Imogen, Barry, jealousy and someone getting slapped." He checked his phone again; it was becoming something of a habit, and it made him realise just how much he needed to speak to Imogen. He added miserably, "That someone was me, by the way."

"What did you do?" she asked.

"I like how you just assume it was my fault!" He was getting annoyed now, and wanted to leave as soon as he could. If he walked to school alone then he could compartmentalise his thoughts and be 100% sure what he was going to say to Imogen in his attempt to win her back.

"And was it?"

"No!" Connor stood up, and went to grab his bag from the end of the staircase.

"Where are you going?"

"School."

"We have stuff to talk about, son!"

Connor ignored her, slung his bag over his shoulder and stormed out, leaving Christine despairing. How could she help him if he wouldn't even speak to her?

X

Imogen was suffering. Last night was not her night at all - after she ran away from the party, she realised she had no money for bus fare so was forced to walk home in the pouring rain; she forgot her key, so subsequently woke up Sally by banging on the door, which caused a blazing row between the mother and daughter, and to top it all off, she woke up with what she believed to be the worst hangover ever experienced by a human being. Paracetamol and her body weight in water did nothing to stem the fierce pounding in her skull, and the faint nauseous feeling in the pit of her stomach meant she was spending a lot of her day in the girls toilets, just in case. Fractured memories of last night were occasionally popping into her head with an unwelcome dose of self-conciousness; every time she thought about what she did to Connor, she had to fight back tears. How could she have done that to him? All she wanted to do was find him, apologise profusely and tell him she loved him, but Barry's words were a constant at the back of her mind. She was currently alone in the common room, feeling sorry for herself with her head buried deep in a copy of Stephen King's novel The Shining; she wanted to reread Misery, but she'd lend Connor it shortly before the fire and never got it back. Lost in the words, she didn't notice as Kevin and Dynasty walked in, only looking up when Dynasty sat down next to her, Kevin taking a seat on the other sofa.

"You look as bad as I feel." Kevin observed. His hair was messier than usual and his eyes looked on their way to becoming bloodshot, Imogen assumed from tiredness. Imogen didn't reply. Instead, she closed her book and stuffed it into her bag.

"You alright?" Dynasty was already worried about her friend after her sudden kick off at the party, and when she saw how down Imogen looked, she swore to get Barry back for causing trouble between her friends. "You know, you shouldn't have wandered off like that. You were still welcome to stay. To be honest, I'd have been grateful for the company. Kace fell asleep not long after you went, Barry locked himself away in his room with some slag from Havelock and after everyone eventually left, I was stuck with nothing but a huge mess and that drunken idiot talking rubbish all night." She made it clear that the idiot she was referring to was Kevin, who was now fully laid out on the common room sofa, pretending to be asleep but failing to suppress a smirk at Dynasty's comment.

Imogen sighed, shifting herself so she was facing her best friend. "I couldn't stay. Not after what happened with Connor."

"Oh yeah, I heard about that. Never had you down as a fighter!"

"I'm not! I'd just had too much to drink and then Barry was stirring it and I lost it. Dynasty, you know I don't let anyone talk about me like that, ex-boyfriend or not."

"Yeah, but you believed our Barry? My brother, of all people? I love him and all that, but bloody hell, Imogen!"

"Are you meant to be making me feel better? 'Cause it's not really working." Imogen was in no mood for this. She knew how stupid she had been, but her stubbornness was over-whelming.

"He admitted that he was lying this morning. Said he just wanted to have a bit of fun, and that it's not his fault if you can't take a joke." Dynasty was pretty angry with him when he told her. She knew what he was like, better than anyone, but Waterloo Road was the first time she felt like she had proper friends, not ones that were hanging around because they fancied her brother or because they loved a bit of chaos; the Barry's did chaos best. "I think you owe someone an apology, babe."

Imogen groaned knowingly.

"Looks like now's your chance." Dynasty whispered.

The door to the common room opened and Connor entered. As soon as he spotted Imogen and Dynasty he walked straight back out again, not wanting a confrontation, especially not in school; the sly comments about getting hit by a girl were going to be bad enough.

"Connor, wait!" Imogen jumped up and ran after him. The majority of the year twelve's had a free, but most other students were in lesson so the corridors were relatively empty. "Please, Connor, I need to talk to you!"

Completely ignoring the girl he loved, Connor carried on walking aimlessly. He had no idea where he was going and he was pretty sure she was going to follow him until he spoke to her. After a while of her chasing him, albeit in silence, he stopped at the bottom of a staircase. "What do you want?" he snapped. For once, this wasn't his fault and he refused to be made to feel guilty over it.

"I... we need to..." Imogen rubbed her forehead discreetly; she had recited his over and over again in her mind - the perfect apology. But when it came down to it, she couldn't find the right words.

"If you haven't got anything to say then just leave me alone, yeah? I've got somewhere I need to be." Despite wanting to make it up with Imogen this morning, Connor had had a sudden change of heart. The feelings were still there, of course, but there was something nagging away in his thoughts that put the self-defence barriers safely in place.

"No you don't. You never have anywhere to be! You're always with me, or Kevin and as far as I know, Kevin is trying to sleep off his hangover in the common room. So, please, can you stop being a dick, and listen to my apology?" Imogen was raising her voice now, beginning to become frustrated because she was actually trying to do the right thing.

"And what if I don't listen to you?" Connor joined Imogen in the raised voices department. They had forgotten all about where they were, intensely focused on their brewing argument. Mr Byrne and Christine were wandering along the corridor. Connor and Imogen didn't even acknowledge that they were there, and carried on shouting. "What if I just walk away now? Will you hit me again?"

"Excuse me?" Michael Byrne was pretty shocked at that last comment, and the protective professional teacher in him flared up. "I think you two had better come with me, don't you?"


	29. Sally Stewart, Greenock's Loudmouth

"Do all your apologies end in being dragged to the headteachers office?"

The uncomfortable atmosphere was far too close to becoming visible, and Connor took it upon himself to break the ice. The two of them had been sitting in front of the desk in Mr Byrne's office alone for a little while now; the headteacher had to pop out to arrange cover for Christine's class, and to ask Sonya to call in Sally Stewart. When Connor rather rudely remarked that he had no right interfering in things that happened outside of school, Mr Byrne explained that this meeting was about more than just what he overheard in the corridor, and he had wanted to speak to the two teenagers for a while now.

"Attempted apologies, Connor. You wouldn't listen, remember?"

Connor had had good intentions when he decided to speak first, be the better person and all that - in no way did he want to spark another fight. "I had my reasons. This is the first huge argument we've had that hasn't actually been down to me, so excuse me if I take advantage of that." He was trying to keep things light-hearted, but they were both fooling themselves if they said they couldn't both feel another inevitable argument brewing.

"You know how much I regret last night! I regretted it from the moment it happened, but you can't hold it against me forever. The chances of us getting back together would be absolutely tiny if I held grudges against everything you've done!"

Imogen's voice was laden with desperation; all she wanted was his forgiveness, but the mention of the fire ensured that things escalated quickly. Pretty soon, they were once again at each others throats, each trying to blame one another for the train wreck that is their relationship, and each trying to justify their actions. Neither wanted to argue; one of the things they had in common was their headstrong characteristic, which unfortunately didn't help the situation.

"Okay, okay! Calm down." Mr Byrne's authoritative voice filled the room as he appeared in the doorway, closely followed by Christine and Sally. Connor and Imogen reluctantly quietened. "Surely we can leave you two alone for ten minutes without this happening?"

"He started it." Imogen wanted to get out of this room right now. She couldn't be bothered with relationship counselling from the headteacher of all people.

"Childish."

"Look who's talking!"

Michael Byrne pulled up two chairs either side of Connor and Imogen, gestured to the two parents to take a seat and then proceeded to sit down behind his desk. "If you haven't got anything nice to say to each other, just don't speak, how about that for a compromise?"

"Not to sound uninterested, but I have had to cancel an appointment for this, so can we please get to the point? To be quite honest, I don't think it's very appropriate for a teacher to be investing such interest in their relationship, surely that's a private matter?" Sally Stewart always got straight to the point.

"This isn't about their... involvement, Mrs Stewart. Although, I do want to touch upon what I overheard in the corridor earlier."

Imogen visibly cringed at his words. Mr Byrne pulled out two student files from his drawer. Opening them, he pulled out a single piece of paper, handing one to Sally and one to Christine.

"These are Connor and Imogen's grades from the past term. As you can see, Mrs Stewart, Imogen's grades are falling. I don't think we have to be too worried, as you've both been through a lot this past term, and as long as you agree put a bit of work into it I think you will be rightly prepared for your AS exams this summer." He turned his attention to Connor and Christine and carried on. "However, Connor, your grade decline is much more serious. As I explained to Imogen, I am fully taking into account the events of the past couple of weeks, but I would be failing as a headteacher if I didn't acknowledge your performance lately."

Connor rolled his eyes uninterestedly.

"You don't seem to be taking this very seriously."

"That's because I'm not."

"Today, Connor, I was reliably informed by Mr Chalk that you're on your way to failing Maths unless you get your act together. What do you think about that?"

"I think... I've got better things to worry about." Connor just knew his mum would undoubtedly be glaring at him right now but he couldn't care less; he didn't need this. What he did need was Imogen back, and they couldn't sort things out with all this unwanted interference.

"If you're not going to show willing then neither am I. If you fail, it is entirely down to you and you will not be back at this school next year to sit your A2 exams, do you hear me? No-one can say I didn't try, I only hope that Miss Donnegan shows as much lenience as me when it comes to the term review of student progress."

Speaking with words full of animosity, Sally Stewart said, "He shouldn't even be in this school. He should be in a cell, the little psychopath."

Connor paled, and he, his mother and his ex-girlfriend simultaneously panicked. Sally Stewart just didn't realise how much trouble she could have just caused; if she let slip about Connor's responsibility as the arsonist, he wouldn't be the only one effected by the repercussions. Imogen would be fined for perverting the course of justice, and if the police were feeling particularly mild that day, the least Connor would walk away with would be a shiny new criminal record.

"Mum!" Imogen shouted finally; she hoped her tone would convey warning, and she _really _hoped her mum would understand and not elaborate. "Leave him alone, yeah?"

"I don't know why you're defending him, Imogen, not after what he did." Her words didn't give much away, but unfortunately for them, Michael had been teaching long enough to know when something was being hidden from him.

"Is somebody going to tell me what's going on?"

Connor had been rendered speechless, and Christine was at a loss. Imogen took it upon herself to try and smooth things over - she was terrified. "It's nothing... just something that happened when we were together, it doesn't matter though, it's all in the past, right, Connor?" She could hear herself rambling but this was no time for embarrassment. When Connor gave a half-hearted nod, she carried on. "We both understand that we need to work harder in class... can we go now?"

Narrowing his eyes, Michael couldn't help but feel suspicious so he relented, letting the two teenagers go but keeping Sally and Christine, which only caused Connor and Imogen's worries to intensify. After they left, Connor sped down the corridor without so much as a goodbye to Imogen. Despite their arguments, she still cared... she still loved him, and refused to let him go off alone and do something stupid. She decided determinedly that she was going to speak to him, and they were going to sort things out whether he liked it or not. Imogen tracked him down to the steps outside the main entrance of the school, where he was sat with his head in his hands. Taking a seat beside him, her voice was soft and caring this time.

"Hey. I'm really sorry about my mum."

Finally, Connor looked up, and Imogen could see that he was close to tears. "It's not your fault. But she could be telling all right now and I can't do anything to stop it, and if this all comes out, it's not just me who gets into trouble. I don't want to drag you into this."

"You still care then?"

"Of course I do, Imogen. I love you so much, and I'm so sorry for being such a prick today. I suppose I was just hurt that you chose to believe Barry over me."

Imogen grabbed his hand, squeezing it comfortingly. "You're not the one who should be apologising... I was way out of order and I'm sorry. I never should have listened to a word that creep was saying... oh, yeah, and I love you too, Con."

The intense feeling of fear and worry plaguing him was suddenly overpowered by a strange bubbly, butterfly sensation in his stomach that Connor could only attribute to happiness. He removed his hand from her grip and slung his arm loosely around her shoulder. "We've been right idiots, haven't we?"

For once, the silence between them was beautiful and they relished in each others company for a short while. In times of contentment such as these, the young couple often wondered what life was like before they met; Connor couldn't fathom how he ever survived life with his mum when she was drinking without Imogen's support and guidance.

"Listen to me, Connor, whatever my mum says in there, don't worry, because you'll get through it. We are going to get through it together, okay?"


	30. Catching Up

The newly reunited young couple spent the rest of the day together, wandering around the school aimlessly catching up on lost time. Eventually, they became bored with staring at the same walls continually and decided to go back to Connors house, as it would be free until around 4 o'clock. Dodging teachers, especially now that they had been warned about failing their exams, they strolled hand in hand to the front gates, ignoring the strange looks that were being thrown from every direction - people wondering _how _they could possibly be back together, after everything. They didn't care what people thought, as long as they were in love and they were happy, that's all that mattered. There was always that underlying worry that they had absolutely no idea what Sally could be saying in Mr Byrne's office, but Imogen reassured Connor that she had no evidence, and deep down she's not a bad person. She added to Connor's surprise that she trusted Christine wholeheartedly to keep them safe.

"Seriously?" Connor asked as they crossed the road towards his house.

"Yeah! She would literally lay down her life to protect you, haven't you realised that?"

"I know, I suppose I'm just not used to her trying to be.. _motherly_ yet."

Imogen understood. After the fight with her mum in the school house on her birthday, Sally had been trying to tone down her faux promiscuous ways in a vain attempt to act her age and look after her daughter properly, and Imogen hated it. "It'll take time but it'll be worth it. Hows things been with you two anyway?"

"Good, I think. We've been arguing and stuff recently because my head's been all over the place." He twisted his key into the door and they automatically went straight upstairs. "But she hasn't drank since her ex-husband visited, so that's something, isn't it."

"Her ex-husband? Why don't you call him your dad?"

"It's complicated... I'll tell you one day, but for now I just want us to be happy. I'm never going to let anything come between us ever again, I promise."

Deciding not to press the topic, Imogen flashed a genuine smile at her boyfriend, and casually threw herself down onto his bed. The first time she slept here was rushed and chaotic, leaving her with no time to have a good look around. As Connor went downstairs to make them both a drink, she decided this was her chance and started off with his bookshelf. It was no surprise to see a dozen Stephen King novels. They had spent hours chatting about him once, he was their favourite author and in Imogen's words - a genius. The copy of The Shining triggered lovely memories of their first 'date' at the cinema... it seemed like only yesterday, yet they had been through so much. As she went to sit back down on Connor's bed, she accidentally tripped over a dog-eared black sketch-book. Opening it without a thought, she flicked through the first couple of pictures - a flattering drawing of herself that she had already seen, a view from the top of the local hills... but the last one sent shivers down her spine. It was Connor, crouched down, flames circling his whole body.

"Having a good look?" Connor appeared in the doorway armed with two cups of tea and a packet of biscuits, setting them down on his bedside table. He realised which picture his girlfriend was looking at and sat down beside her on the bed. "That was ages ago, Imogen, before the... before what happened. It helped me to imagine myself setting fires when Mum took my lighter away or if it was the middle of the night or something. Listen to me, I sound like a right freak."

"You're a lot of things, Connor, but you are not a freak. You're not weird, you're not a physco, you're not mental, you're not a creep... you've just had a hard time of it. It's not your fault, and I don't want to hear you talking about yourself like that ever again, okay?"

Amused by her rant, Connor shifted so that Imogen was resting on his chest. He kissed the top of her head and whispered, "I've missed you so much."

A couple of hours later, after drinking endless amounts of tea, stealing kisses every so often and getting their fill of rubbish daytime telly, Connor checked the time and realised Imogen was going to have to leave.

"It's not that I want you to." he explained. "It's just that I know my mum will be home soon and I know she isn't going to be very happy with me after finding out I'm probably going to fail my exams and end up stacking shelves for a living, and it'd just be weird to have you around for that. And anyway, you need to go and find out whether your mum is having me arrested or not."

His casual tone was laced with undeniable fear - he would be lying if he said he wasn't utterly terrified at the prospect of the truth coming out. Not just to the police, though, everyone. What would people think? At his previous schools, he refused to make friends, instead he shut himself off from the crowd knowing that in a couple of months he would be uprooted again or just because he had too much to cope with at home. But Waterloo Road was different, people seemed to like him... he had Kevin, his first proper best friend since he was a little boy; Dynasty and he even classed Kacey as a mate despite being a couple of years older than her; Scout had been a great friend since day one, and there was all the others - he couldn't bare to think about loosing everyone and reverting back to being alone again. He only walked his girlfriend halfway home, not wanting an altercation with Sally at the front door, after Imogen made him promise to call her after he spoke to Christine so she knew what was going on. She told him not to worry, threw her arms around his neck and kissed him goodbye, euphoric to be back in a relationship with him.

X

"I hope you had fun truanting today." Christine couldn't have been home long but she was already straight to work on some marking. Armed with coffee, a red pen and a copy of The Catcher in the Rye, the sarcastic words slipped out as soon as she heard her son enter the house and she braced herself for another argument. Connor ignored her. He had had enough of fighting with people he loved lately, and besides, he needed to ask her about Sally.

"It's getting harder and harder to defend you, son."

"I don't need defending! Not from you, not from anyone."

"I won't let you fail your exams. I don't understand it, Connor, you've always been clever. I can't remember a time when you were a kid when you didn't have your head buried in a book, and say what you want about me as a mother but I always made sure I took an interest in your education!"

He could feel his phone vibrating energetically in his pocket. Strange, he thought. Imogen never called first, as she had a weird fear of speaking on the phone apparently. He ignored it. "I'm not going to fail my exams! Mr Byrne is just exaggerating. Anyway, I might not be sitting any exams."

"What? Of course you're sitting your exams."

"It all depends on what Sally said in that office, Mum." He watched his mum carefully, scanning her face for a glimpse of any sort of reaction. Knowing full well that she would probably attempt to change the subject, he added, "Tell me, please. My life would have been so much easier if you told me the truth instead of spinning all these lies to protect me. I don't need protecting. I don't need help. I just need to know whether I'm going to jail or not."

"Mr Byrne will probably need to speak to you tomorrow, son."

Connor feared the worst, his heart smashing violently against his rib-cage as he hung on to his mothers every word.

"Don't worry." Christine said, seeing the panic written all over Connors face. "After Sally left, I managed to convince Michael that she was just looking for someone to blame because she's so image-conscious and can't come to terms with her daughters scar. He was rightly suspicious though, and I think he is probably going to re-review the case. But, as long as you stick to our story, nothing will happen to you, I promise."

Connor's phone vibrated again as digested the information. It gave him a little light relief to know that he wasn't going to be carted away to prison or a mental asylum but the way his mum had twisted and manipulated Sally's words into something that she could use to her advantage sounded just like the old her, the drunk her. She was just beginning to pick up the pieces of her life, and Connor hated himself for making her revert back to her past ways. Before he got chance to reply, they were interrupted by a knock at the front door.

As it seemed strange for anyone to visiting, they rarely had guests for obvious reasons, Connor was straight there, Christine following behind him.

It was Imogen. She looked dreadfully worse for wear - thick tears running softly down her face, her gentle eyes red from crying.

"Imogen... what's wrong?"

"It's my mum. She's kicked me out."


	31. I Love You

It seemed ironic that Imogen felt safest with Connor, the only significant person in her life ever to physically hurt her, accident or not. Nevertheless, when her mother told her to get out, she instinctively called him for support and walked to his house for comfort. Even if they hadn't made it up, she would have came to him for help. They were kindred spirits - perfect for each other in every way, romantic and platonic, best friends and soul mates. It didn't stop her feeling pathetic as she relayed the story to Connor and his mum, though.

"I think she must have seen us together at school because literally as soon as I stepped through the door, she was shouting the house down saying I have no self-respect and calling you all the names under the sun. We argued... we argue a lot but it was different this time, she was saying horrible things and it was as if she really, really meant them. She said that it's either you or her, and if I choose you then I'm not welcome in _her_ house." Bitterness rose in her voice as she mumbled quietly, "It's not even her house, it's in my Dad's name."

Connor knew Sally could be a bit hot-headed when she put her mind to it, but he wasn't expecting this. "So, what did you say?"

"I told her that she can't make me choose. It's not fair." She sighed, completely at a loss. "I'll go back later when she's calmed down."

"Well you could always stay here for the night? I mean... if that's alright with you, Mum?"

Christine hadn't really been listening to their conversation, feeling like a bit of an intruder but the kitchen was the only place she could concentrate on marking properly. "What? Oh, yeah... of course. Just make sure you call your mum and tell her where you are, she'll be worried."

Laughing fondly, Connor earned himself confused looks from them both. "Oh.. I just remembered that those are the exact words you said to me that night I stayed at yours."

"Great minds think alike, eh, Imogen?"

...

His mother had told him he was a hypochondriac when he told her that he was sure he was developing insomnia, but how could he be a hypochondriac if he had actual symptoms? Every single night, he lay there frustrated; no matter how exhausted he was, his body refused to shut down and every time he teetered on the edge of nodding off, vivid images of traumatising events trespassed their way in his mind and painted themselves onto the back of his eyelids like a squatter who refused to budge. Events spanning his whole life... a sensationally painful mixture that almost always involved fire and alcohol. The worst of all being his girlfriends blurred, panic-stricken face as she tried to drag him out of the flames that he'd created - whenever that particular one flashed up, he jolted upright in his bed, all the anger and guilt he felt towards himself reinforced. Tonight he had a blissful distraction; however bizarre it sounded, the light, peaceful breaths coming from Imogen sleeping next to him comforted him... and made him even more intensely aware of just how many lives he had or was in the process of ruining. Imogen was scarred indefinitely because of him, and now their relationship meant she was getting into serious arguments with her own mother; Connor knew the importance of family, despite only having a tiny one himself, and despised the fact that he could possibly be tearing one apart. Before he could stop them, his thoughts switched to his own mum - how she had been killing herself with drink all these years to blot out the pain, rather than just because she was a terrible person, as Connor, ever since he was old enough to understand alcoholism, had lived his life thinking. Their conversation about the rape in the hospital had put him at ease slightly but he sometimes wondered if there was ever a moment when Christine looked at him with resentment, with disgust, but at the same time he genuinely believed his mother saw nothing of his biological father in him and the contradicting thoughts ate away at his brain. He was lucky; lying came naturally to him, so when he told everyone he was fine, it was believable. Deciding sleep was once again a lost cause, he reached for his sketch book from under the bed and drew until dawn broke.

...

"Listen, I've been thinking." A knackered Connor whispered to his girlfriend the next morning, tactically making conversation so he could manage to stay awake during Maths.

"That's a first." Imogen joked, trying not to think about the impending meeting with her mum; they'd agreed to meet at lunchtime to sort things out.

"Oi!" he chuckled. "I'm serious! I don't want you and your mum to be at each others throats over me. Why don't you just say you're not seeing me any more?"

"No! Why should I have to? It's not of her business, Connor, I chose to forgive you. I didn't have to, but I did. I'm not a kid, she can't make my decisions for me."

"I don't see the point in you two falling out over me. I know lying will only complicate things in the long run but it will give you chance to convince her that I'm not actually a mental case."

Mr Chalk coughed in their direction, fully prepared with the patronising 'I'm-your-teacher-so-shut-up' method. They pretended to understand algebra for a couple of minutes to get him of their backs and Imogen contemplated Connor's idea for a while... she didn't want him to feel like she was ashamed of him because, in fact, it was quite the opposite. Imogen was immensely proud of her boyfriend, all the hurdles he'd faced in his life and the way he hadn't let it affect him as a person - sure, his mental health situation wasn't quite up to scratch but others with backgrounds as troubled as his would surely have veered off the rails in a more dangerously spectacular fashion than him.

"How do you see your future?" she asked, randomly.

"What do you mean?"

"Like, what job do you see yourself doing?"

Connor had never really thought about it. To be honest, he hadn't really thought of his future at all. "Where's all this coming from? I don't know... I'm not really good at anything. What about you?"

"Don't be stupid, you're an amazing artist! I think I'd like to write a bit. You could illustrate my books!"

"Yeah, I can see it now." Connor swiftly moved his arm in a curve, and shielded his eyes. "Mulgrew + Stewart... our names in bright lights! I'll be the beauty and you'll be the brains, obviously."

"Really? I thought I'd be the beauty _and _the brains. I'll make you stand outside with one of those sandwich boards on!"

"Will you now?" He began tickling her ribs, laughing effortlessly as if the last couple of weeks hadn't even happened. "Kev reckons we're going to get married, you know. He said that's what most people thought before we split."

Not acknowledging the mention of the split (they were getting on way too well for the mood to be dampened) Imogen grinned. "I don't care what anyone says, I am wearing my Doc Martens on my wedding day!"

"Imogen, I'd marry you I'd marry you in a bin-bag."

"Why on earth would you be wearing a bin-bag?

"No... I meant-"

"I know what you meant." Imogen quickly stole a kiss on his cheek. Suddenly, her whole body seemed to turn serious, her eyes narrowed. "Connor, I need to tell you something."

_No more surprises_, Connor thought desperately,_ nothing else is going to come between us. "_What is it?" _  
_

"Don't hate me." she mumbled, carrying off the self-pitying face impeccably. "I just need you to know that... well, I love you."

Relief flooded throughout Connor's body like an overflowing river as he watched Imogen giggle hysterically.

He nudged her, softly. "Oi, you had me worried then! Well, guess what? I just happen to love you too."


	32. A Spanner In The Works

"How did it go with your mum?" Connor asked his girlfriend, noticing how down she seemed ever since lunch. Thankfully for him, the day had passed relatively quickly and his plan to dodge Mr Byrne had been successful; he knew all too well that if he was forced into a serious conversation about the fire he would more than likely crack and confess all. All he had to do now was survive double English. When Imogen continued to stare out of the window, not acknowledging that he had even spoken, Connor nudged her gently.

Breaking out of her train of thought, Imogen pulled her hearing aids out of her pocket and expertly slotted them back into place. "Sorry."

"I'm guessing it didn't go too well then. You only take your hearing aids out when you're unhappy."

"I just... oh, I don't know." Although it warmed her heart to know how well Connor knew her, her voice was tinged with sadness. "Mum got all soppy, almost started crying when I said I thought she had kicked me out. Said she would never ever do that because I'm her little girl... blah, blah, blah. It didn't last long, though. As soon as she found out I stayed at yours last night, she flipped again. Told me that I'm welcome to come home but she still can't accept my decision."

"I told you to tell her we weren't seeing each other!"

"Yes, and I told you I'm not letting her walk all over me!"

They had been getting on really well lately; Connor wondered with confusion why she was having such weird mood swings. "Okay, whatever, calm down." Currently in English with his mum, he didn't want her to see them arguing because it would only lead to an unwanted interrogation later. "I just thought it would get her off your back, that's all!"

Whispering turned into mild shouting as Imogen completely forgot that she was in lesson. "Why are you so set on that idea? Are you ashamed of me or something?"

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!"

"Don't call me stupid. Do you know what? Just don't even speak to me."

To be honest, she didn't know why she was getting so aggravated, reading far too much into things and it worried her; deep down, she knew he meant best. Feeling tears prickling the back of her eyes, she grabbed her bag and left, not caring that she would get into trouble for skipping lesson. Mrs Mulgrew, previously oblivious to the domestic going on in her classroom, looked up as she heard the door open.

"Where is she going? There's forty minutes left!" Christine aimed the question, but Connor didn't realise as he had rested his head in his hands, exasperated.

Dynasty, instinctively becoming protective over her best friend, drawled, "What have you done now?"

"Why does everyone always assume its my fault?"

"Because it always is!"

...

The downfall of walking out of lesson is that there is nowhere to go. There always seems to be more teachers than normal, parading around the corridors for students to send to the cooler, like wild birds looking for prey. Of course, storming out of lesson normally means your mind is on other things completely and you couldn't care less who was in the halls, which is exactly how Imogen felt at the moment. She was confused... all these emotions were clashing around dangerously in her head and it left her unable to think sensibly. How was Connor going to react? Would he hate her for not telling him sooner, because, truth is, Imogen had known about this for a while now... too long, in fact. But the fight with her mum served as the catalyst that helped spark her fear. It wasn't confirmed, but it was time for that to change. She had to find out before it was too late.

...

There was no use even bothering to look in the mirror - after what she had just seen, Imogen's face was entirely drained of colour. When you're as naturally pale as Imogen, it really isn't a great situation when the colour actually deteriorates, it just leaves you looking as if you're on deaths door. Imogen wiped a tear from the corner of her eye, determined not to cry so as not to attract attention to herself. Every so often, a wave of nausea engulfed her, so strong that her eyes went fuzzy and she had to steady herself on her feet. Her worst nightmare had been confirmed. It was now a frightening reality, so horribly vivid in her mind that she couldn't shake it away. She was disgusted in herself. How could she let this happen? She wasn't one of those girls... and oh God, what was Connor going to say? After everything they've been through, how could she drop a bombshell like this on him? What if it tips him over the edge? She would never, ever forgive herself if he did anything stupid. Sighing lightly, she decided that the only rational thing she could do at the moment was tell Connor, so she walked back to English with the weight of the world on her shoulders.

"Ah, the wanderer returns. Take a seat please, Imogen, we're making notes on the role of women in Hamlet in groups, and I'll need a word with you after class." Mrs Mulgrew didn't seem to angry, probably so she could stay in Connor's good books but regardless, Imogen relaxed in the tiniest way.

She took her usual seat at the back next to Connor, who didn't say a word as she sat down. Imogen knew that this wasn't the right time or place to confide in him but she was so terrified and the thought was scratching away at her brain - it had to be now.

"Connor... look, I'm so sorry for snapping at you earlier but we really need to talk."

Picking up on the nervousness in his girlfriends voice, he immediately imagined the worst. "Are you going to finish with me again?"

"No! No, of course not, it's nothing like that. You just have to promise not to kick off, this wasn't supposed to happen." Imogen breathed deeply, wondering whether her whole life was going to come crashing down around her. Unable to articulate the words without throwing up, she opened her bag and gestured for Connor to look inside.

His eyes widened in horror as he realised what she was pointing at. "W-what... Imogen..." Connor stuttered. "Is that what I think it is?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh my god, Imogen. What have you done?"

His reaction was never going to be brilliant, but this was the polar opposite of what Imogen had expected. "What have _I_ done? This is your mess as much as it is mine!"

"Well... and don't take this the wrong way but... is it, I mean, is it... mine?" Connor regretted the words as soon as he said them. He felt like such a dick for even thinking it.

Imogen was furious. How dare he say that? What does he think she is? Hormones rushed around her body like commuters late for work, and for the second time in a short period she slapped him, although significantly lighter. _I need to stop being so violent, _she thought to herself, and it it wasn't such an emotional situation she would have laughed. Every one turned around, eager to see the drama unfolding.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Christine couldn't understand Imogen's behaviour - walking out, arguing and now violence - especially after she and Connor were getting on so well last night. "Are you two going to tell me what on earth is going on?"

Connor panicked; he didn't want his mum to know, not until he'd discussed the situation properly with Imogen. Clutching his cheek, he said, "Nothing!" It was a bit to abrupt, and Christine could read him like a book, she knew when he was lying. "It's... nothing." He repeated, this time notably calmer. "Everything's fine, we're fine, right, Imogen?"

But Imogen was incensed, her brain was not functioning properly and she didn't click onto Connor's discreet pleads for his mum not to find out.

"No! Everything is not fine, Connor! Things are far from fine!"

"Imogen, please-"

"She might as well know, Connor. After all," Imogen turned her stony gaze to Mrs Mulgrew, allowing tears to formulate in her eyes. "It's going to be her grandchild!"

...

AN: Okay... Firstly, I didn't want to do a pregnancy storyline, but I've got a few twists and turns up my sleeve so I only hope you wont all find it too boring and predictable! Secondly, thank-you all so much for reading this and for the lovely reviews - you are all bloody amazing.


	33. Revelations

Upon the realisation that she had just blurted out her unexpected pregnancy to her whole English class, her boyfriend and her boyfriends mother, Imogen collapsed into a heap of wrecking sobs. Christine told the class they could leave early, so all that was left was the three of them. Connor didn't know what to do with himself - he knew that he should be comforting Imogen right now, telling her that everything was going to be okay and whatever happened, he would be there for her and the baby. But it was times of crisis like these when memories of his old coping mechanism came to light; he might not have set one for while, but the urge for fire was always there, highlighted in times like these. To compensate, Connor had started to bite his fingernails, almost like how a quitting smoker might feel the need to eat or chew gum when the need for nicotine hits.

The classroom was silent, and you could almost hear the three brains whirring in motion, until Christine decided to take control of this whole situation. "Okay.. Imogen, I'm assuming you've only done the one test?"

The heart-broken girl only nodded in response; she could only afford the cheapest they had.

Christine felt a strange sense of maternal protection mixed with her responsibility to cater to all students welfare. ""Right, now we're getting somewhere. You," She fixed her gaze onto Connor, who was staring out of the window, trying to make sense of the whole situation. "you've caused enough trouble today, so make yourself useful, go down to the chemist and get another test, and we'll meet you back at home, okay?" She pulled a twenty pound note out of her purse and pressed it into his hand and Connor accepted the opportunity to leave without argument.

"Why are you doing this?" Imogen asked, after watching her boyfriend leave.

"Doing what?"

"Being... supportive. Helping me. You should hate me for doing this to your son."

"Imogen, you need to understand that you have done absolutely nothing wrong." Christine pulled the chair out from the desk in front of Imogen's so she was seated opposite. "I can tell how frightened you are. And as much as I don't agree with violence of any kind you must have had your reasons, so are you going to tell me what Connor said to deserve that?" _  
_

Imogen explained what happened. "I just freaked out. I shouldn't have done it, I know that, but it scared me. What if he doesn't want anything to do with me, Miss?"

Christine sighed, remembering being in the same situation when she first fell pregnant. She was a few years older than Imogen, and the circumstances were different but telling Joe was the most nerve-racking thing she ever had to do and when he left her it affected her deeply... well, the rest is history.

"Come on, you're coming back to ours." She went to grab her bag from her desk. "But rest assured, Imogen, if my son does anything less than give you his utmost respect and support whatever decision you both decide to make, I'll kill him."

...

He was doing so well. He had sworn no more fire.

After buying the test, which he now decided was one of the most embarrassing moments of his life, Connor headed straight for the closest off license. A lighter was purchased and his feet took him to the woods; his utopia. The sheer amounts of dying leaves ready for him to obliterate was overwhelmingly satisfying and drained the little willpower he had. One flick, and Connors mind emptied, the thirst for relief quenched. One flick, and the urge was gone but the disappoinment mounted. Disregarding the shame he felt in himself, Connor stayed in the woods until the sun began to go down.

...

As soon as Christine heard the door go, she was straight there. "Where have you been? It doesn't take hours to buy a pregnancy test, son. And what is the point of you having a phone if you don't answer it?"

"Where's Imogen?" Connor asked, ignoring her questions and hanging his coat on the banister.

"She's upstairs in your room. But wait," She grabbed his arm gently. "If you think you're scared, it's nothing compared to how she has been feeling, son. She thinks you hate her, so go up there and be a man. Give her all your support, and you can do your worrying later."

Connor managed a small smile, imagining how different her reaction to this would have been a couple of months ago when she was drinking. Grabbing the test, he nervously went upstairs.

"Hey." His voice was quiet as he entered his room to find Imogen sat on his bed, legs curled up in a sort of self-comforting foetal position. Connor sat on the other side of the bed next to her. "How you feeling?"

"How do you think I'm feeling?"

"Imogen... I'm going to say something now that really needs to be said so just try to listen to me." Connor took Imogen's hand in his. "I am an idiot. The way I reacted was totally out of order, and I'm sorry." He paused. "It seems like all I do is apologise to you lately."

For the first time in a while, Imogen managed a giggle. "Why can't we just have an easy relationship?"

"I don't know, I guess the world just hates us. Here," Connor passed her the white paper bag containing the pregnancy test and felt guilty as he saw her face drop. "Don't worry, I'm here for you. I promise."

"Before I go, it doesn't change anything, does it? We'll be okay?"

"Of course not, like I said, I'm here for you. Whatever happens, we deal with it together."

Imogen, feeling significantly more reassured, kissed him and then left for the bathroom. "Won't be a sec, then."

Fives minutes later, she wasn't back. Connor fiddled with his cardigan, contemplating whether to go and see if she was okay.

Ten minutes later, she still wasn't back and having limited knowledge of how these tests work, his curiosity took over and he headed to the bathroom, knocking on the door tentatively.

"Imogen? You okay?"

The door opened, and Imogen appeared in the doorway with tears glistening in her eyes. With shaking hands, she handed him the little white stick.

"Con... I think it was a false alarm."

...

Tears were shed, hugs were given and the news was broken to Christine, who was equally as relieved for the young couple. It had been a long day for all of them and after a lot of protest, Connor agreed to only walk Imogen halfway home; she didn't want Sally to see him, as she'd decided to go along with his plan of telling her that they weren't seeing each other any more.

"Thanks for all your help today, Miss." Imogen entered the kitchen as Connor was getting his shoes on in the living room. "I really appreciate it. I'm sorry for kicking off like that in lesson, too."

"Don't worry about it, love. I'm just glad everything is sorted. It doesn't get you out of the coursework deadline tomorrow, though." Christine joked.

The recovering alcoholic watched as the two left. It was nearing 6 o'clock, and if she was honest, she couldn't be bothered making any tea so she grabbed a crumpled takeaway menu from the drawer. Remembering the £20 note she gave Connor earlier, she went over to the stairs to grab the change from his coat pocket. Sticking her hand in and scooping up the items, Christine inspected the contents in the palm of her hand; an empty chewing gum wrapper, a handful of coins, his house key... and _oh God, _she thought. A lighter. Her instincts kicked in and she went back to his coat, took it off the bannister and smelt it. To anyone else, a mother smelling her sons coat might look somewhat strange, but in these circumstances it was vital; and there it was, the undisguised scent of fire smoke, distinctly different to cigarette smoke which she was pretty used to after all these years. Christine sighed. It was time this was nipped in the bud, once and for all.

"Mum?" Connor shouted as he got back. "Have you got a copy of To Kill A Mockingbird so I can do my coursework? I left mine at school." He stopped dead in his tracks as he entered the living room to see his mother perched calmly on the sofa, eyes laced with disappointment, holding the lighter that he had bought earlier that day. "Mum, I-... it's not mine."

"Connor, your coat reeks of fire. Don't lie to me please."

After the day he'd had, the last thing he wanted was a lecture. Sitting down next to her, he sighed. "Don't start on me, Mum. I'm really not in the mood."

"I'm not angry with you, son. I just think it's time we had a proper chat, don't you?"

"That wasn't really a question, was it?"

"No, it wasn't. I'll put it a different way - you're going to talk to me, whether you like it or not. I'm worried about you. I want to help you."

"You can't help me!" Connor shouted, feeling awful as he saw his mum flinch slightly. "Sorry, it's just... you just can't help me. Nobody can."

"That's not true, sweetheart. I can help you, if you just let me in. Tell me how you're feeling. What's going on in that head of yours?"

"I can't explain it." Suddenly, his insecurities built up and he panicked. "It doesn't matter... you don't want to know, and I've got school work to do..."

Christine stopped him before he could stand up. "School work can wait. You don't have to be embarrassed, love. I'm your mum, and besides, I've made a fool of myself in front of you more times than I care to remember. If you're not ready to talk about it, that's fine, I won't push you. But please, don't bottle things up. It's not good for you."

Connor thought about it, and decided to give it a try. Deep down, he knew she wouldn't judge him. "You won't... you won't think any less of me, will you?"

"Never." Noticing his silence, she thought maybe it would be a good idea to start the ball rolling. "Why do you do it? Why fire?"

"I don't know. It's just my thing, it always has been. It started small, every now and again when I was angry. It was my way of coping... it's not like I could speak to you about stuff." Mother and son winced at the mention of the past - they still found it hard to think about it.

"Yeah, I guess not... I suppose I was the cause of most of your anger, too. I still would have been there, though, if you had came to me. Drinking didn't stop me from loving you, it just stopped me being there for you, and I regret that more than anything in the world."

"Doesn't matter now." He mumbled. "Anyway, I never intended for anyone to get hurt, and after the fire at school I swore never to do it again, and I stuck to my word until today. Everything built up, Mum. All these weeks without it... then there was all the stuff with Imogen; the party and then the pregnancy thing... it tipped me over the edge. After I left your classroom I bought the lighter and headed straight for the woods, burnt some leaves. And if I'm honest, I make myself sick. Part of me wants to go to the police and admit it was me."

It hurt Christine to hear him talk about himself like this, to be so self-deprecating. However bias she may be, she would defend him to the death and she wished he knew just how special he was. The only thing wrong with him was the after effects of his tough childhood, which was her fault entirely.

"Don't you dare say that."

"Why not? It's what I deserve."

"No. No you don't. You listen to me," She wiped away a stray tear from his cheek. "you did what you did because you were desperate and I will not let you suffer because of something that I caused. Have you thought any more about speaking to a professional?"

"If it's taken me this long to talk to you about it, how hard do you think it's going to be for me to talk to some stranger?"

"Okay, alright. I'm not going to push you into it. But promise me you'll come to me whenever you feel yourself getting angry or frustrated, Connor." He nodded. "Oh, and if I find of these on you again," She said, gesturing to the lighter. "I'll bloody drag you to that counsellor myself."

Christine smiled as she spoke to reassure him that it wasn't her being horrible, it was called tough love. Connor wouldn't allow himself to laugh, he never did once he was in this mindset, but he did flash her a small, partly-forced smile before she pulled him into a hug.

"What am I going to do with you, eh?"

...


	34. Unexpected Visitors

(I really need to stop deleting chapters, but I've deleted the other chapter 34 so this one is the right one. All you need to know is that Imogen is not pregnant. Okay. Thank-you. Enjoy and that)_  
_

_..._

_'To Mum._

_Happy birthday. _

_Lots of love, Connor x _

_P.s, Thank-you for sticking by me after everything I've done.'_

The message in the card that Christine found balanced on the kitchen sideboard alongside a lopsided bunch of flowers warmed her heart; she had actually forgotten her own birthday until she had seen it, having had more important things so focus on lately. Birthdays were never really her thing, celebrating getting older always seemed a bit strange to her, especially as the years went on. They made her feel old and anyway, the majority of people used birthdays as an excuse to party and drink excessively and of course, she had never needed an excuse to do that. Reading the card again, she smiled proudly as she realised she had the loveliest son in the world. Connor was actually thanking _her _for sticking by him. _Bless him, _she thought as she placed the flowers in some water.

...

"I'm going to be the laughing stock." Imogen felt more and more paranoid with every step as she walked hand in hand with her boyfriend into school. She'd told as many people as she could that she wasn't actually pregnant after all but still, gossip spreads around Waterloo Road as quickly as a disease in a third world country.

"Anyone laughs, they'll have to go through me." Connor replied, squeezing her hand comfortingly.

"Oh, Rocky, is that you? I didn't recognise you for a moment there."

They both laughed; they were happier than they had been in ages.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. Did we have any History homework, by the way?" He asked, as they got to Ms McFall's classroom.

Imogen took her seat. "No, I don't think so. But your coursework is overdue, remember? She said she wanted it done today."

"Great." Connor mumbled, racking his brains to remember the last place he'd seen it. Maybe it was in his bedroom. Oh, well.

The lesson passed reasonably fast after Ms McFall bustled in, clipboard in hand as usual. She gave an emotional speech about her relatives who fought in the war, complete with an old, frail looking book of poetry direct from the front line. Imogen got frustrated with the looks directed her way, some sympathetic, some obviously judging her and mentally calling her a slut, so she went against her belief that personal things should be kept off Facebook and uploaded a status explaining the situation. After some annoying comments from Rhiannon about dirty hands and a quick argument between her and Scout, the bell finally went and Connor and Imogen headed off, practically joined at the hip. Both were determined not to let anything get in between them again; they were going to focus all of their efforts on being in love and no external forces would destroy that.

...

Nothing could be heard but the brief chinking of mugs onto the table in the staff room; it was fairly empty, only the lucky teachers with free periods residing there. Christine was making herself a cup of tea, remembering with conflicting emotions how she used to have to get her timings right when making one, so as to have time to pour the right measure of vodka into it before the students got to class. How times have changed... now she was pretty content with drinking her plain tea, coffee if she felt like a change. As she started to relax before lesson, Audrey came strolling in, breaking her peace.

"Christine, can I have a word? Well, there's a couple of things actually."

"Sure. What can I do for you?"

"It's just that I can't seem to be able to get Connor to finish his History coursework. There's a couple of weeks left before the deadline though, but I like to set my own so I can cast my eye over and check what needs improving. It's not too much of a worry, as long as he gets it done as soon as possible. I just thought I'd mention it."

"Oh, right, okay, um, I'll have a word. He's late on his English coursework, too." The last comment was just her thinking out loud. "Was there something else?"

"Yes," Audrey glanced at the clock; she was teaching soon. "I was just at reception and someone was asking for you. If I remember rightly, I believe she said her name was Debbie."

Christine paled. What the hell was her estranged mother doing here? They hadn't spoken for years; a huge fall-out had ripped their relationship apart. Steadying herself on her feet by resting her weight on the sideboard, Christine panicked, contemplating her options. She could go and face the music or she could just avoid reception all day and hope that her mother was eventually escorted from the premises. Whatever she decided to do, this whole thing had put a massive dampener on her day. It was times like these when the urge finally kicked in; the need for her anesthetic flared up, despite being sober for months now. She vaguely heard Audrey ask her if everything was okay.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah, everything's fine." She lied. "I have to go."

...

Claustrophobia had never been a problem for Christine before but as she sped down the corridors of the school, willing herself to stay calm, the hallways seemed eerily narrower and the walls were tightening. She stopped abruptly outside of reception and took a deep breath, telling herself that there's no need to get frightened or wound up, she didn't even know all the facts. Maybe it was a different Debbie? Whatever it was, it was driving her mad with worry so she composed herself and entered, coming face to face with her mother for the first time in years.

At first glance, Christine saw that her mum hadn't changed but a proper look disregarded that. Debbie's normally glamorously dyed violet coloured hair was now a mousy brown, tinged with noticeable patches of grey and her make-up had been toned down so much that the new wrinkles were visible. Her eye's looked puffy and red, as if she had been crying. The awkward atmosphere in the room seemed to intensify with every second that passed - neither knew what to say.

Finally, Debbie decided to be the grown-up and broke the ice with a curt, "Hello, love."

"Mum... what are you doing here?" Christine was speechless - they fell out so spectacularly that she thought she would never hear from her mother again.

"Something has happened. It's only fair I told you face to face. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

Noticing the distress in her mothers voice, Christine asked Michael whether she could take a couple of hours off - it took a while to convince him but she somehow managed it and drove herself and Debbie back to her house. Silent tension once again filled the air and the car journey was unbearable; when they got back to the house, Christine put the kettle on and decided to make the effort. You only got one mother, after all, and if Connor ever abandoned her so effortlessly as she had abandoned her own it would break her heart. Despite wanting to make up with her mother, though, what happened between them was a constant at the forefront of her mind and at the time, it hurt her so much that Christine was finding it hard to forgive.

"Are you still drinking?" Debbie asked, randomly.

"I'm almost five months sober now."

"That's... that's brilliant!" Suddenly, Debbie's demeanour flipped. "I'm so proud of you!"

"Thanks." Her daughter said, with a smile. "Now, are you going to tell me the real reason you're here?"

Elation turned to sadness once again. "It's difficult. I don't like to talk about it."

"You're worrying me now, Mum."

Tears sprang into Debbie's eyes. "It's your father. He's... he's dead."

The relationship between father and daughter was never brilliant. He was a hard-worker, constantly on the phone or staying late at the office. It led to some unintended neglect towards his wife and children (Christine has a sister), but nevertheless she adored him and to hear of his death was heart-breaking. Christine was taken aback; she knew something was wrong the moment she laid eyes on her mother in the school reception but she never once expected this.

"When?" Her questions were sharp but it's how she dealt with grief, especially when it was such a shock. "I mean, how?"

"Before I tell you, I need you to understand something. I didn't tell you because I thought it was for the best. Your sister and I agreed."

"Didn't tell me what?" She asked, her suspicions rising.

"Christine... your father died two months ago. He was diagnosed with cancer last year and it became terminal. He passed away peacefully in his sleep."

Rendered speechless, Christine's hands began to shake with fury. "Why didn't you tell me? Why would you keep it a secret from me? He was _my_ dad!"

"I hadn't spoken to you in years! You did not make the effort to contact me. I didn't even know where you lived. I don't even know what my own grandson looks like!"

"So you didn't tell me my own father had been diagnosed with cancer, let alone DEAD... because of spite? That's low, even by your standards."

"What do you mean, my standards?"

"You know what you did, mother." Christine spat the last word with pure disgust. Every bone in her body was screaming for alcohol. It was scaring her; she hadn't felt an urge this strong for a long time.

"Please, not this again. I was trying to help you! You must understand that! You were a bloody wreck, drinking yourself half to death and neglecting that poor boy!"

The falling out dated all the way back to Connor's sixth birthday - the night that Debbie received a phone-call from her terrified, young grandson explaining as best he could that his mummy had hurt herself and he was scared. Rushing back, Debbie got her daughter to the hospital and stayed in the family room with Connor, anxiously waiting on news. Exhausted, Connor fell asleep on her knee and as she watched him sleeping peacefully, she made the hardest decision of her life - she requested a meeting with social services. Half of Debbie felt like she was betraying her daughter but this needed to happen; someone had to put that little boy first. He didn't deserve the life he would inevitably get with Christine.

When Christine regained conciousness, the first she thing she asked was to see him. She wanted to give him a cuddle, tell him she loved him and mentally curse herself for traumatising him like that. But they wouldn't let her; she was informed that Debbie had applied for temporary custody, citing her belief that her grandson would be in danger if he carried on living alone with an alcoholic.

"I was never going to win worlds best mother, but what you tried to do was out of order. How could you even think about taking him away from me? You were worried about my drinking, right? You do realise that if you had taken him away from me it would have tipped me over the edge? I would have drank myself to death and you would have had that on your conscience for the rest of your life."

Debbie rolled her eyes. "Cut the melodramatics, love. I dropped the allegations."

"You cut the allegations after I begged you! Can you even begin to imagine what I went through when I thought there was possibility that I could lose Connor?"

"He would have been better off with me and you know it! Where is he, anyway? Jail? Because that's where I always suspected he would end up if I let you carry on screwing him up!"

Amidst the increasingly louder voices, neither woman heard the door open. Connor had came home early for his History coursework, deciding to be a good student and get it done in his free period. Entering the living room, he didn't recognise the older woman but had a strange feeling that he should.

"What's going on?" Connor began; they were clearly discussing him, and he had had quite enough of snide remarks today.

Debbie was silent for a moment as she examined the grandson that she had always loved. She studied him carefully, fearing that after the argument with Christine, this might be the last time she saw him in a long time. Overcome with emotion, she tried to keep her voice steady.

"Look at you, ey? I always knew you would grow up to be a heart-breaker. You haven't half blossomed. Oh, come here!" Not able to keep her composure, she leapt forward and smothered him in a well overdue hug. When she broke it off, she saw the confused look on his face. "You really don't remember me, do you?"

He shook his head.

"I'm your grandma, lad!"

Connors eyes widened. He threw his mum a look of utter confusion and automatically became worried as he scrutinised her expression. "Mum? Are you okay?"

"Bless. He still cares, after everything." Debbie said. It was quite funny for her to decide to jump on her high horse when she didn't know what on earth was going on between them. "I feel sorry for you, lad. I always knew you would have been better off with me rather than living with a maniac like _her_. I'm ashamed to call her my daughter."

Their previously tumultuous relationship didn't stop Connor from becoming madly defensive over his mum. "Don't talk about her like that! You don't know anything about us!"

"I knew this was a mistake. I'll see myself out, shall I?" Connor nodded, before Debbie decided she wasn't finished. "I do love you, Connor. I always did and I always will... but don't come crying to me when you realise what kind of a monster she really is."

...

After making sure his grandma was well and truly gone, Connor attempted to get Christine to speak. His mum was silently sobbing, gripping her legs closely to her chest, painfully grieving for a man who's been dead for months. It was overwhelming for her to know that no-one even trusted her to be at her own fathers funeral. She imagined the snotty comments from distant relatives, condemning her as a disgrace for not attending. Tears ran down her cheeks like flowing rivers, and after a while she managed to speak.

"Go back to school." she said plainly.

"Mum.. I'm not leaving you on your own-"

"You'll do as your told." Christine was speaking calmly, staring into space. "Go back to school, Connor."

"Will you be alright?"

Finally, she turned to look at him. She smiled convincingly. "I'll be fine, son. You don't have to worry about me. Now, go. And get your coursework done."

Realising the battle was lost, Connor darted upstairs, grabbed the mounds of paper off his desk and reluctantly made his way back to school.

Christine reverted back to gazing intensely into the nothingness. The only thing that would make her feel better was calling her name; it was off limits, she knew that, but one wouldn't hurt, would it? Just thinking about it made her crave the special burning in the back of her throat, the incomparable perfection of the hazy safety net it placed around your thoughts and worries. She needed it. The off license was only ten minutes away on foot... she could be there and back in time before Connor got back to school. She could destroy her pain with the clear liquid that she depended on so much before he even got home. He would never even know.

That was it.

Decision made.

Christine Mulgrew had officially fallen off the wagon.


	35. It's Killing Me

Rain lashed against the windows of the History classroom, darkening the skies and everybody's mood. It didn't affect Connor, though, who was already feeling intensely worried about leaving his mum at home alone; he wasn't really sure what had gone on between her and his grandma but Connor knew it was these situations when she was most liable to turn back to the bottle. All throughout the lesson he was biting his nails anxiously, wondering if he was going to returm home to alcoholic Christine or normal Christine.

"What's the matter?" Imogen whispered, after Ms McFall set the class some work. Connor was silent, so she nudged his arm gently. "Con?"

"What? Oh, nothing... it's just been a weird day, that's all."

"Do you want to talk about it? I'm here for you, you know. I don't want you doing anything stupid because you're feeling down."

Connor smiled. "You're too lovely, do you know that? I'm alright, I suppose. I just have this horrible feeling that my Mum is going to start drinking again."

"Why? I thought she was doing well." Imogen picked up her pen so that if McFall looked over it would look like they were working.

"Yeah, she was... she is. My grandma visited today, and I haven't seen her for about ten years. When I went home to get my coursework they were arguing over something, and when I left, Mum looked properly upset. It was strange."

"You should cut her some slack, Con. She's been sober for a while now, she'll be stronger!"

"Mmm, I think you're right." He tried to reassure himself as best he could that after everything that's happened in the past couple of months, one argument with her mother wouldn't turn Christine back to drink. "What are you doing tonight, then?"

The couple drifted off into conversation for, all worries disappearing as they lost themselves in normality for a while.

...

Initially, Christine had only intended to have a few drinks to numb the pain of today's revelations. The power of addiction is overwhelming, as she knew, and a few drinks turned into several glasses of vodka and half a bottle of wine. At first, she was frightened; the alcohol would be a shock to her system after such a long time without it, but eventually the fear was drowned by the drink. As her head became increasingly fuzzy, Christine became more and more emotional. The emotions currently plaguing her were an eclectic mixture - disgust in herself, grief at the loss of her father, an awful feeling of abandonment by her own mother and a bizarre feeling of contentment, as if by drinking again she was back to being herself again.

The door opened but the bleary alcoholic didn't realise. Connor entered the living room, his worst fears confirmed when he saw the bottle of red wine on the table.

"What are you doing, Mum?" he asked. Inevitably, this was going to lead to an argument but he refused to let her see that this was breaking his heart - why should she think he cares about her when the feeling clearly isn't mutual?

Christine didn't reply. Instead, she refilled her glass. "My mum was right."

"What?"

"She was right."

"I don't know what you mean."

"She was right in what she did." Christine slurred. "You don't know why me and my mother stopped talking, do you?"

Connor desperately wanted to tell her how he had lost all respect for her and shout at her, but eager to hear the story, he calmly shook his head.

"Do you remember your sixth birthday?"

"Not really."

"I fell down the stairs, you called her and she got me to hospital. You were just a scared little boy, and while I was unconscious she contacted social services... tried to get you taken off me."

It's always going to be a shock to find out you were almost taken away from your mother but Connor had more important things to focus on. "So you're drinking again because of something that happened almost 11 years ago?"

Disregarding his question, Christine's voice cracked sorrowfully. "I should have let her take you." It was almost as if she was thinking aloud. "She was right... right about everything. She said I would mess you up and I did-"

Connor cut her off, the anger he had tried to suppress now starting to reach boiling point after her last comment. "I am not messed up, Mum!"

"You start fires to deal with things, Connor, how is that normal in any way, shape or form?"

"And just as I believed that you were actually going be there for me. Do you know what?" Tears prickled his eyes; he struggled enough with coming to terms with his coping mechanism, the last thing he needed was for his own mother to tear strips off him like this. "Drink yourself to death for all I care."

As he turned around to walk out, Christine grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare speak to me like that. I am your mother!"

"Some mother!" He shrugged himself free from her grasp, and decided to curb the anger. Maybe he would be able to get through to her if he was just straight up with how he felt. "Mum, can you not see what this is doing to me? It's killing me!"

For a second, Christine's eyes flickered towards the ground, a sign of possible guilt, but she soon reverted back to her usual severe alcoholic self. "Don't be so dramatic. I've had a few drinks. You should count yourself lucky that I haven't started sooner, with everything you've put me through lately."

Her words were harsh and Connor was finding it increasingly difficult to attribute them to the alcohol. The phrase 'Drunk words are sober thoughts' sprang to mind; he needed to get out of this house. Before he did, though, he needed an answer to one more question.

"Why didn't you let her take me, Mum?"

"Why do you think?" It was odd how quickly her tone could change from hatred to caring. "You're my son... and I love you."

"No, you don't." He sighed, desperate to make his escape from this house. "Mum, I can't deal with this, not again. I'm sorry for everything you went through before I was born, all the stuff with my Dad and I'm sorry if anything I've ever done has made you drink but I just can't sit back and watch you do this again. I have to go."

Connor was out of the door so quick that his mother didn't have a chance to reply. He knew exactly who he needed to see, only one person could make him feel like there was a point to any of this. He needed to see Imogen, now; he didn't want to fall off the wagon with his own addiction. He was stronger than that.


	36. Fractured To Broken

Silence was prominent at the private, idyllic hideout that the young couple chose to frequent. It was as if the solitude that the over-hanging branches and monstrously tall trees provided was the perfect escape from everything, all their worries and problems floated away as soon as they set foot there. It was the two of them against the world and no-one could take that away from them. Imogen was on her way, according to her last text and Connor, already there, was trying distract himself from the painful urge circulating its way through his body. The feeling of nausea crashing around his blood stream was making him feel dizzy but he was not, under any circumstances, going to break his word. He wasn't like her; he was better than her.

Ten minutes passed and Imogen still hadn't arrived. Connor closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the bench. The lighter he'd bought yesterday was still sitting comfortably in his pocket; it showed the extent of his willpower that when his mum took it from him, he watched her carefully as she placed it in her handbag and when she went to bed that night, he retrieved it. It made him feel like a drug-addict, stealing from his own mothers bag but it was for good reason. He wouldn't use it. It just provided him with a... friend, of sorts, however stupid it sounded. From a young age, he learnt the best way to drag yourself through life is to just keep yourself to yourself. Friends asked questions, and questions are always awkward when you have an alcoholic teacher for a mother. He'd taught himself to lie, cheat and manipulate when it was truly necessary, and the first time he discovered how effective fire was, it was a revelation. He no longer felt lonely - the raw crackling of the flames, big or small, were like a voice, a voice that told him everything would be fine. He was alone in this battle, and he never would be. As he fondly remembered the first time he committed arson, Connor's hand acted as if with a mind of its own; before he knew it, his hand delved into his pocket, pulling out the disposable lighter. One click... and with immediate effect, his breathing regulated, his mind emptied.

Suddenly, the object was pulled out of his hands sharply. Opening his eyes, Connor saw Imogen stood directly in front of him, glaring at him. She had intended the look to come across as an empty threat; as soon as she got his call, she knew exactly what had happened with his mum.

"I-I wasn't going to, Imogen." Connor's voice was strained, and Imogen sat down gracefully next to him.

"I know, I'm not angry with you. It's just.. I can't think about you doing anything like that again." She grabbed his hand, interlinking their fingers. Neither spoke for a moment, relishing the quiet, until Imogen broke the silence. "So, what happened with your mum, then?"

Connor explained the situation, although he didn't actually know what had gone on between his mum and grandmother. "I don't think I can deal with this all over again. I should have known that it wouldn't last, but I was stupid enough to believe that she had changed. I finally let my barriers down to her, Imogen, I started to trust her. I've been such an idiot."

"You're not an idiot. But if she was sober for a while, maybe she'll have more control over it? Maybe she's just trying to cope with what happened today.. it could all stop again tomorrow." She realised how ridiculously naive her words were but they slipped out regardless; she was struggling to find the right things to say to reassure him when he was clearly in such desperate need for support.

"No, no, I know what you mean, though. Some alcoholics have control over their drinking but if I know anything, it's that the one thing she can't do is control it. I don't want to make this about me, but I just feel like it's all my fault."

"It's not your fault, Connor. It's hers."

"It's her choice to drink, yeah, but some of the things she was saying, Imogen.. they were awful. Things about the fire, saying I wasn't normal and she's right, isn't she? When I found out the real reason she's drank all these years, I felt guilty, but now I'm past caring. I don't care about her, or what she does anymore."

"You still love her, don't even try to deny it." Imogen spoke gently. "You know that she's not drinking to hurt you, don't you? I'm no therapist but drink is her comfort blanket, just like fire is yours."

"Why are you defending her?" Connor asked, removing his hand from her grip.

"I'm not! What I'm trying to say is.. well, the doctors said she'd get really ill if she carried on drinking, yeah?"

He nodded, wondering where she was going with this.

"Then you have to do what you've been doing your whole life. Get her to quit, for good. You might be upset now, and I understand that but if anything happens to your mum because you weren't there when she needed you the most, you'll live to regret it for the rest of your life."

Connor sighed. "Can you please stop being right all the time?"

"No can do, sorry. It's a gift." She giggled, but when her boyfriend stayed stony-faced, she had an idea. "Listen, you know the gym in town? Well they're based in Glasgow and they want a meeting with my mum tomorrow morning about her doing some classes in the local branch or something.. I don't know, I'm not really interested. My point is, they're putting her up in a hotel tonight so I've got the house to myself. If you really don't want to go home tonight, you could stay at mine?"

"Okay." He managed to contort his face into a genuine smile. "I'll have to nip home first though, there's something I need to do."

"What?"

"Check whether my mum is still breathing."

...

Irritating music lingered towards Connors ears when he arrived home. It was nearing 6 o'clock and he was hoping that by the time he got here, his mum would have anethesised herself to the point where she'd passed out on the sofa. It would avoid an altercation, but luck was never on Connor Mulgrew's side. Christine was leaned against the kitchen counter, undoubtedly attempting to steady herself. Glass of wine in one hand and a half-smoked cigarette in the other, she eyed him blankly.

"Oh, look who it is, my _darling_ son." She slurred, triggering feelings of disgust into Connor. "I didn't expect you to be back tonight."

"Yeah, don't worry. I'm not staying."

"Where are you going?"

"Imogen's." Their conversation was painfully awkward. Sighing, Connor realised he needed to get something off his chest. "Listen to me, Mum, just listen to me, don't make any sarcastic drunken comments or anything."

Surprisingly, Christine switched off the radio, gesturing for him to say his piece.

"I know why you started drinking all those years ago.. and it's horrible. I wouldn't wish that upon anyone, and I'm so, so sorry. But I just don't understand this, you were doing well, really well, I was actually proud of you for once! I went to clear my head and I realised that this isn't about me, it's about you and I can't force you to give it up. So, whatever. Do what you like, but things are going to change. I'm not going to let this effect me any more, so drink as much as you like, but I'm not looking after you. I'm not making sure you get up the stairs carefully or getting you up for work in the morning. From now on, this is just where I'm living until I go to Uni."

Connor nervously stretched the sleeves of his cardigan over his hands and awaited his mothers response. When Christine was silent, he started to wonder if he'd finally got through to her. Wrong, again.

"Well, would you listen to Martin Luther King over there?" The alcoholic scoffed. "You about done? Good, then it's my turn. You listen to me. Personally, I think you need to grow up and stop feeling sorry for yourself. You need to realise that the world is not a nice place, son. Things are not going to be handed to you on a plate and bad things will happen. Please don't think that I don't love you, because that could not be further from the truth. I really do want to help you get through your rough patch, I don't want you to end up like me, a wreck, because that's what I am, Connor, I'm a wreck. I want to help you and in my heart I know that the only way I can do that is by drinking. To help you, I have to start off by helping myself."

Although it was unnerving to hear her admit to loving him (he couldn't remember the last time she did that drunk), Connor wasn't having any of it.

"Bullshit."

"...Excuse me?"

"You're just talking complete shit. Don't act like you're there for me, Mum."

Strangely, Christine's eyes filled with tears. "But I am, I am! I want to help you, son. Why won't you believe me?"

"Okay, one question. What would you choose? Me or the drink?"

Prior to this question, Connor felt compelled to stay at home tonight. He was worried that something would happen, that the alcohol would suddenly come as a shock to her body and despite being disgusted in her, he still cared. That was Connor's downfall - he was too caring for his own good. After he asked the question, though, Christine's reaction cemented his decision.

Her eyes lowered to the floor. She didn't speak, not one syllable.

Connor darted upstairs, grabbed some clothes and was out of the door before Christine could stop him.

Out in the open and in the kitchen, both mother and son shed a couple of tears in unison.

Their fractured bone of a relationship was now fully broken, and the hope of ever fixing it floated away with Christine's every drink.


	37. It's Not Your Fault, It's Hers

Dullness echoed around the classroom, making itself known to the students. Some where slouched lazily at their tables, struggling to keep their eyes open, others daydreamed out of the window, and the rest, like Imogen, doodled uninterestedly on their books. She was beautifully crafting a shape that closely resembled a flower, an image that Connor based the hand-made ring he made for her on. He began to watch his girlfriend as her hand artistically weaved around the page, adding the finishing touches to her design. It was a welcomed distraction from his mothers monotonous voice, droning on about exam questions, not realising that nobody was listening to her. A couple of weeks had passed since Christine started to drink again, and to say their relationship was shaky would be an understatement. Things had reverted back to how they were before; speaking to each other only when necessary, constantly teetering on the edge of an argument. Moving out was out of the question; there was nowhere to go. The only family Connor knew about was his Grandma and his half-brother Joe, and there was no way he could stay with either of those. Whatever happened between his Grandma and his Mum that day was the reason she was drinking again so Connor piled all the blame onto that her; if she had stayed away, everything would be fine. And despite feeling more hate towards his mum recently, attempting to make contact with Joe would just be a massive kick in the teeth and he didn't think he could do that to her.

Suddenly, Imogen pulled the ring out of her bag and admired it. "How did you make it?"

"I'll show you some time, bring it round yours." He whispered.

"Oh, yeah, and have my mum hassling us about you being a psycho? No, thanks."

"It could be worse." Connor nodded towards his own mum. "She could be a teacher."

"Things still bad then?" She asked, sliding the ring onto her finger and gripping his hand under the table.

"Yeah, but I'm used it it. I can't let her get to me any more." He sighed lightly, not wanting Imogen to think he was grafting for sympathy.

Despite his best efforts, Imogen knew her boyfriend was downplaying his feelings towards the situation. "I wish there was something I could do, I hate seeing you so down."

Connor smiled warmly. The fact that Imogen still wanted to help him and be there for him after everything he had put her through really did fill him with comfort; no matter what happened, Connor would never be alone, and that thought managed to drag him through the darkest of days. Days when the urges became uncontrollable, days where he had to try incredibly hard not to fuck things up in a spectacular fashion. As the couple lost themselves in random conversation, Imogen twisted the ring around absent-mindedly in her fingers.

"The ring.. hand it over." All of a sudden, a stony-faced Christine was in front of their table.

Reluctantly, Imogen placed her prized possession into the palm of her English teachers hand. "Careful, Miss. It's delicate."

"Aww, young love. Am I going to have to buy a new hat?" Christine glanced at her son, amused by the look of absolute hatred that he was giving her. "Looks like you two can't sit together without getting distracted, so... Scout, swap placed with Imogen, please."

Connor didn't mind Scout, she had been his friend since the very first day but the fury he felt towards his mother at this moment in time was indescribable. It was as if she was determined to get on his nerves constantly, resorting to petty methods like moving his girlfriend and taking away the ring. It was incredibly immature - you wouldn't think she was the adult. Luckily, there was only ten minutes or so left of the lesson and as soon as the bell went and the classroom emptied, he marched straight over to her desk.

"Give me the ring." He demanded.

"You know the rules, Connor. No jewellery in school."

Feeling himself getting angry, Connor took a deep breath, determined not to rise to her. "You're actually mental, do you know that?"

"Don't you have a lesson to get to?" Christine asked; she needed to refuel and an argument with her son would prevent her from getting a drink down her throat before the next lot of students arrived.

"Why are you determined to mess everything up for me? Can't you bear me being happy or something, is that it?"

"Oh, please... so I asked her to move seat, big deal. Talking to your little girlfriend all lesson won't get you a good grade in English, will it?"

Before Connor could reply, they were interrupted by a knock at the door, a teacher asking for a word with Christine. She automatically reverted back to her highly professional, brilliant teacher façade, and it made Connor feel sick. Making sure she was definitely out of the door, he had a spur of the moment idea. He pulled open the zip of her handbag, grabbed the vodka, her lighter and one single cigarette.

...

With liquid splashed haphazardly onto some tissue, all that was needed was a spark. One spark was need for the ignition of the boiler room. Connor tentatively balanced a lit cigarette, knowing that as it eventually burned down, the remaining flame would explode that dingy little room, making sure his problems and frustrations exploded with it. When this mood took hold of him, his mind drained, firmly putting the barriers up towards any thoughts of guilt that might be trying to fight their way in, attempting to stop him from falling back into the throes of his addiction. Satisfied with his arrangement, Connor made a quick exit.

Fire alarms screeched, the younger kids of Waterloo Road panicked, and the teachers rolled their eyes with an awful feeling of history repeating itself.

...

When Christine got back to her classroom after taking the fire drill, she sat down behind her desk, exasperated. She pulled open her bag discovering, to her horror, that the bottle was gone. Panic was her immediate reaction, until she bitterly remembered she left Connor alone in her classroom after an argument. Mentally cursing herself, she stormed down every single corridor in search of him. Christine knew he'd took it, just as much as she knew it was him that started that fire. Finally, she burst through some double doors and grabbed his arm, pulling him into a corner so passers-by were out of earshot.

"Where is it?"

"Where's what?" He retorted, roughly pulling his arm from her grasp.

"You know what... Connor, please, I need a drink." The desperation in Christine's voice made her sound utterly pathetic; begging her own son for alcohol.

"That's not my problem." Connor said, looking at his mother with sheer amounts of disgust. "Sorry." He started to walk away, but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back again. "Get off."

"You're not clever, son. You're pathetic."

"Yeah, of course. I'm definitely the pathetic one here. Have you seen yourself? You're not normal."

"I know it was you that started that fire."

"So tell Mr Byrne, then. I'll happily take prison over living with you. And while we're there, I'll tell him about your little secret too."

Christine's demeanour transformed from mother having argument with son to frightened alcoholic desperate to keep her problem quiet. She narrowed her eyebrows and glared at him. "Don't make me laugh, Connor. You won't tell him anything."

"You're sure of that, are you?"

"Yes, I am. And do you know why? Because you love Imogen too much. You won't tell Mr Byrne because if I get the sack, we will have to move away and I know you, son. I know you can't bear to be apart from her, so don't give me your empty threats, okay?"

Knowing she was right, he opened his bag and pulled out the bottle of vodka.

"There you go. Happy now?" Satisfied at the distraught look on her face, he chuckled. "Oh yeah, I forgot. I tipped it down the sink. Enjoy."

...

Connor avoided Imogen for the rest of the day, the guilt of what he had done rapidly creeping up on him. It must be hard for her to think of him putting himself in danger again, especially was reminded of the possible consequences of his actions every time she looked in the mirror. As he was walking towards the front entrance to go home, Imogen finally caught up with him.

"Oi, you can stop ignoring me now!" She spoke with a little smile, which relaxed Connor a little.

"I'm sorry." The words fell out of his mouth before he could stop them. "I'm so sorry, Imogen."

They went and sat down on the chairs opposite the lockers. "Don't worry about it." Imogen said simply, refusing to be angry with him. He was clearly going through a lot without her adding to his worries.

"I can't help it. What is the matter with me, seriously? I'm such an idiot."

"No, you're not. I've told you this before, none of this is your fault. It's hers." Imogen entwined her fingers through his. "We need to get you away from her."

"Mmm.. I think you might be right."


	38. Let's Talk Business

He breathes out and in, out and in and the pace soon regulates. He digs his nails into the side of his mattress, tighter and tighter until the tips of his fingers turn white. It's been a week and the plan to escape his life and start a new one with Imogen have not materialised; they had no money and no idea where they would go. The last fire he started was at school after the argument with his mum, and since then, Connor decided he was not going to let the addiction beat him. The urge is almost constant, powering through his body violently. He had learnt to deal with the shaking hands and even the nausea disappeared after a while. There was still something else, something raw, something so built in that he couldn't pin-point it's roots. Connor supposed he would just have to live with it; he didn't have to act on it, he wasn't weak and anyway, he had Imogen to look out for him.

Connor's phone was teetering on the edge of toppling off the window-sill, so he grabbed it and checked the time. Almost midday; he was supposed to be meeting Imogen, Kevin and Dynasty in town at one o'clock. After the quickest shower ever, he threw some clothes on and began to do his hair out in the downstairs mirror.

"Going out?" Christine appeared at the doorway, having clearly been drinking. It was these times Connor could handle, the times when she had drank but wasn't as drunk as she could be.

"Town." He replied monosyllabically; if he and Imogen did manage to get away somewhere, it would be all the more easier if he new that relations with his mum weren't great.

"Who with?"

"Why?" The conversation was awkwardly clipped.

"I'm interested, that's all."

"I've got like three friends, including Imogen. Work it out."

Christine folded her arms and tilted her head questioningly. "What's the matter with you? You've been in a mood for weeks. It's getting boring now, son."

Connor ignored her, throwing on his jacket.

"Do you want some money?" She didn't have to be sober to know that he needed to have a bit of fun with his friends.

"Not from you."

...

"Finally!" Dynasty shouted, noticing Connor getting off the bus. "I could hit you, we're bloody freezing."

"Sorry, slept in." He mumbled in reply, going straight over to Imogen and pulling her into a kiss as if he hadn't seen her for weeks.

"Right.. what's the plan then, guys?" Kevin asked, walking backwards so he was facing the others. "First things first, I refuse to go into Topshop or anything."

Despite his refusal, Kevin was reluctantly dragged into almost every clothes shop they could find. He sighed as Dynasty became practically hypnotized by a shirt that apparently she had to have because it was perfect in every way shape or form. The other three kept explaining to her that she couldn't afford it, that they were bored and wanted to go, but Dynasty wouldn't relent - she just stared. Eventually, they coerced her out of the shop only to realise that it was pouring down. Instinctively, they made their way into the nearest coffee shop. The warmth that hit them on entering was greatly welcomed, and they grabbed a table in the corner.

Imogen had realised how quiet Connor had been today, but knew how much he didn't like attention. She only brought it up when Dynasty and Kevin flew off to order their drinks. "Come on, then. What's up?"

"What? Oh, nothing really."

"Yes, there is. You've hardly said two words all day."

"It's just the usual. I've been thinking," Connor pulled his cardigan sleeve over his hand; a source of comfort. "About us.. when you said we need to get away."

Imogen looked up, confused. They'd spoken about this, agreed they had nowhere to stay and no money. "Yeah?"

"Maybe it doesn't have to be forever? We couldn't afford to run away forever, but maybe we should get away for a couple of days? We could find somewhere to stay, see how things pan out and then if we manage it, we could stay longer."

The desperation began to seep through; for some unknown reason, Connor felt that if he got away from Greenock, away from his mother and Waterloo Road, everything would disappear. No more fire. No more hands aching towards a lighter, towards a box of matches every single time things got the slightest bit tough. Things were worsening lately.. his fires were no bigger than sparks, easily diminished with a blow or a wave. It didn't empty his mind any more, it filled it. Connor could feel the different cogs in his brain, whirring, doing overtime, highlighting every bad memory throughout his entire life. It scared him. His coping mechanism was breaking down; it no longer stopped his head from overloading.

"I've got an idea." Imogen spoke, snapping Connor out of his train of his thought. A wide smile plastered upon her face, she gave him a playful wink but said no more until Dynasty and Kevin returned.

...

"I'm not happy about this, Imogen." Connor had a face like thunder; the four of them were currently outside the Barry's house, ready to put Imogen's supposed brilliant idea into action. The couple had told their best friends about their plan to leave, and although shocked at first, they knew they must have their reasons and decided to support them one hundred percent.

"Stop worrying, Connor." This time, it was Dynasty who spoke. She was looking slightly more nervous than usual, however. "It's quite a good idea actually, and I won't let our Barry get to you this time. Right, I'll be two secs."

Imogen's genius idea turned out to involve the one person Connor despised more than anyone - Barry Barry, idiotic bad-boy who, as it goes, tried to rip their relationship apart not so long ago. She explained that Barry was always getting involved in some dodgy deal to raise cash but always getting off scot-free, never once having the police sniff round him, and if they did catch up with him, he always charmed his way out of it. Imogen thought that Barry might be able to help them get some money together; deep down, she knew it was risky and she hated him as much as Connor, but her boyfriends mental health was her main priority and him being forced to live with a raging alcoholic was not improving it whatsoever.

"Where will you go?" Kevin asked, quietly. He was genuinely saddened at the thought of two of his best friends leaving.

"We don't know, really. All depends on how much money we get."

"Why, though? Why do you have to leave? I mean, everyone knows how in love you are but can't you be in love here?"

"It's not that.. there's just a lot of stuff going on. It won't be forever, Kev." Connor attempted to smile reassuringly.

"I know, but I'll miss you. Both of you."

It wasn't that Connor hated it around here. To be honest, he liked Waterloo Road better than any other school he had been to. Greenock was the first place that gave him hope that his mum would ever choose sobriety over alcoholism and even considering the current circumstances, he would be gutted to have to leave. If he stayed, he would only end up flipping out in a more magnificent fashion and it would only cause even more pain and destruction. If anyone else was hurt because of him, he wouldn't be able to cope.

No-one spoke for a while, until the heavy silence was destroyed by Dynasty shouting, "You can come in now!"

Hearts thumping, Connor and Imogen looked each other in the eye, one look speaking a thousand words. They both knew that this might be their only way to raise some money to get away, but at the same time, it could be incredibly dangerous. After all, this was Barry Barry and they both knew what he was capable of. Connor vaguely recognised the house from the last party, a night he would much rather forget. Kevin comfortably threw himself down on the sofa; you could tell he was here often. Imogen stood awkwardly next to Dynasty, who had her arms folded and was giving her older brother the glare that she had perfected over the years.

"Remember what I said, Baz. No messing them about, okay? They're my best friends and they need a bit of help."

Barry looked at Imogen with eerie wide eyes and that infuriatingly smug smirk of his painted on his face, before shifting his gaze back to his sister. "Why should I help them, Dyn? We need the money for Dad more than Romeo and Juliet over there."

"Well, do it for me if you won't do it for them. Please, Barry.. they just need to get away for a while. It's just a favour."

Barry was silent for a while, seemingly relishing in the attention he was getting. He thought hard about his latest scams and deals, genuinely thinking about whether he could fit Connor into anything. Sometimes, it was good to have a scapegoat. A naive, first-timer who would more than likely crack under the pressure, but be too frightened to drop you in it. That was it. Barry had the perfect idea.

"You better be serious about this, Mulgrew."

"Yeah.. I-I am." Connor stuttered, trying his best to feign confidence. "I just need a bit of money, that's all."

"Right, well, if you play by my rules I can get you about £2,000 in the next couple of weeks. It involves some serious shit, though. You could get in some serious trouble if you're caught."

He nodded, adrenaline pumping. The money went over his head, right now he was weirdly excited.

Barry smiled. "Let's talk business."


	39. A Little Chat

Knowing what he was going to be doing in just a couple of hours was making Connor feel light-headed. Thinking about it over and over again while he once again struggled to succumb to sleep last night, he realised just how much of a mess he had got himself into. The plan was simple in theory - all he had to do was meet Barry in town and then deliver whatever Barry gave him to wherever it needed to be. But in reality, Connor knew that it wasn't going to be pizzas that he was ferrying around. It was on his mind constantly and for once, he was staring at the clock, willing time to go slower.

"Listen," Dynasty said; they had been paired together in English. "If you want me to talk to Barry, I will. You don't have to do this."

"No, I do." Connor sighed.

"Is it worth it though? There's always other ways of making money."

He glanced over to Imogen. "Yeah, she's worth it. You might think we sound pathetic or immature but around here, things get in the way of us."

"I know.. I just don't want my brother to ruin any more lives." She lowered her voice when she noticed Mrs Mulgrew doing the rounds of the classroom, checking the students' work. "Why don't you just get a job?"

It wasn't about the money for Connor, not really. It was about getting away from here. He developed pyromania years ago but it was only when he started attending Waterloo Road that acting upon those feelings resulted in people getting hurt. Connor would never forgive himself for physically injuring Imogen, but mentally, he knew that he was on a downhill spiral. Maybe if his mum hadn't started drinking again, he could have found the courage to speak to her about it and wouldn't have had to think about such drastic precautions like leaving with his girlfriend.

"Because it will take forever to get half of what we need. Like, I said, things get in the way of us around here and I'm not letting anyone or anything split us up again." He decided the time was right. "There's something you should probably know."

When Dynasty didn't speak, just looked at him with questioning eyes, he braced himself for a confession. He knew that he shouldn't be telling anyone; all that business was well and truly swept under the carpet, it had been months. But, part of him felt the only way he would get proper closure was to tell someone. And it probably should have been Kevin, but Dynasty was there. "The fire that scarred Imogen.. I started it."

Expecting her to kick off, he was shocked when she didn't so much as blink. "You're an idiot."

"W-what?"

"Imogen is my best friend.. she's already told me."

Connor chuckled, letting the nerves out slightly. How could he have not realised? "You don't think I'm a freak, then?"

She lowered her voice when she noticed Mrs Mulgrew doing the rounds, checking the students work. "Of course not. You're good enough for Imogen, then you're good enough for me. I did find it hard to understand at first though. I mean, it just proper random.. fire? But don't worry, no-one's going to find out from me."

"I'd explain but it's a long story, ask Imogen if you want to know. And can you tell Kev for me?" He couldn't face talking about it any longer.

"Yeah, I will do." For once, Dynasty's tone softened and she sounded genuine. "Promise me you'll think about what you're getting yourself into with me brother, though?"

Connor nodded half-heartedly, as they went back to making notes on the recurring theme of loneliness and confusion throughout Catcher in the Rye. They seemed to be recurring themes in his own life, too.

...

AN: Really short, I don't even know. But I need to ask something important, right. If you're reading this, can you let me know whether it's getting too unrealistic, like with the Connor working with Barry thing (which will be the next chapter btw)? Because that seriously is the last thing I want, and I'd rather you tell me than let me carry on. I don't mind bad reviews, honestly, I quite like them. I like improving. :-)


	40. An Experience He Doesn't Want To Repeat

The wind was harsh; Connor felt as if it was literally cutting into his face, although he didn't realise his eyes were watering until he blinked, and felt a drop run down his face. Paranoia was tangling him up in its sticky web and he had only been waiting for Barry for five minutes, but five minutes is a long time when you know that you're about to tangle yourself up in a different web, a criminal web. Trying not to look shifty, Connor pulled out his phone and scrolled through the latest status' on Facebook. He wasn't remotely interested in what anyone had to say but the words on the screen seemed to pull his mind away from his impending job.

"Alright, lad." Eventually, Barry swaggered over, full of confidence as usual. He saw through Connors façade immediately. "Worried?"

"A bit."

"Don't be. Just follow my rules and you'll be fine. I'm doing you a favour here, mate. But once you've done this for me, you're involved. You don't back out without my permission, understand?"

Connor felt his head nodding, as if with a mind of its own. He wanted to walk away, but he wasn't ashamed to admit that Barry frightened him. From some of the stories that Dynasty fed Connor and the others, it was quite clear that Barry was unhinged.

Barry edged as close to Connor as he could without looking odd to passers-by. Surreptitiously, he dropped a plastic bag onto the palm of Connors hand. "The Weller estate, do you know it?"

He knew it well; the estates reputation wasn't great. "Yeah, it's not far from here."

"That's the one. My mate, Carl, he'll be waiting for you behind the corner shop. All you have to do is give him what I just gave to you, get the money and meet me back here. Simple, yeah?"

"Right."

"One more thing though.. don't let anyone see you, 'cause you will regret it." They were words designed to send a shiver down a spine, topped off with a chilling smile; Barry really was quite the psychopath.

...

He didn't want to do this. Reluctance emitted his body as he forced himself to carry on walking. Connor had already weighed up his options in his head; go ahead with this whole thing, get some money and eventually leave with Imogen or turn around and live with an alcoholic for another couple of years. The latter option was obviously much more appealing, but he knew that with that choice came a beating or something else not particularly nice from Barry. It didn't take very long to get to the Weller estate from town, but he pulled out his phone and called Imogen regardless, knowing that hearing her voice would set his nerves straight and highlight the sole reason why he was doing this.

She picked up after 3 rings, and pelted him with questions. "Hey, is everything okay? Have you seen Barry yet?"

"Yeah, I met him not long ago. Imogen, I don't want to sound stupid but.. I'm panicking."

"It's not stupid! If you don't want to do it, don't. Turn around and go home, or come to mine."

"No, I can't. Barry will kill me." He turned a corner, and was now on the estate. "It'll be alright, I'm probably just over thinking it."

Imogen sighed. "I'm going to be worried now! Ring me as soon as it's done, yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Promise?"

"Promise! Right, I have to go. I love you."

"Love you too." The phone line went dead.

Truth was, the adrenaline rush had finally appeared, racing through Connors blood in every direction. The fear was still there, but it had now been pushed to the back of his mind, numbed ever so slightly by the anticipation of what he was about to do. The small bag of marijuana felt heavy in his pocket; he only hoped he didn't pass any police, or police dogs for that matter, because the smell of the drug was incredibly powerful. Connor was amused by how much this estate actually fit the cliché of rough areas. Empty cans of beer, takeaway cartons and cigarette butts lined the streets, as if the pavement was one huge open bin, and walking passed a playing field, Connor noticed a bunch of dead, decaying flowers hanging haphazardly onto the metal fence. In all his curiousness, he gently opened one of the cards and read the message inside.

"_RIP SPARKY MATE GONE TOO SOON." _

"OI!" A thick Scottish accent protruded through the air, pulling Connor away from the flowers. "Get off them!"

"S-sorry!" Connor stuttered. "I was just.. looking."

"Yeah, well don't." The voice turned out to be a female. Dressed in pyjamas and ugg boots, she eyed Connor suspiciously. "They're me brothers."

Silence.

"I haven't seen you around here before."

Connor was speechless; he knew Barry would be furious if he knew he was drawing attention to himself. "I'm just meeting a mate. I've got to go."

Feigning unadulterated confidence, he walked away without looking back. His heart literally felt like it was about to explode, as if at any moment it would jump out of his ribcage, touch the moon and the stars and fall back down again, the state of panic exacerbated even more. That was it - the adrenaline was extinguished, and he wanted nothing more than to be at home. It was as if the run-in with one of locals had made it clear to him that living with his mum wasn't too bad. She wasn't a mentalist, she wasn't a horrible person, not all of the time anyway. He had seen much worse on The Jeremy Kyle Show. But imagining a life free of her, a life away from Waterloo Road, a life that was his and Imogen's infinitely.. it was like giving water to a man trapped on a desert. It was euphoric.

He made it to the back of the corner shop, inches away from unloading the drugs. He couldn't wait; he knew it was going to be a huge weight of his shoulders. Hands stuffed firmly into the pockets of his long black coat, Connor waited, until finally, a tall man of large build came striding over.

"You Barry's mate?" The gruff voice said. Connor nodded. "I'm Carl. You got my stuff, then?"

"Yeah." Connor mumbled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small bag. "Here."

In return, a wad of notes was pushed into his palm. "Tell Barry I'll been in touch. Nice doing business with you, lad."

...

That was it. It was over, just like that. The overwhelming, conflicting feelings Connor had been experiencing were now gone, replaced by some new ones - relief, shock, and a little bit of anxiety was fighting its way in. He couldn't help but succumb to the paranoia. What if anyone had seen? He was teetering on the edge of a criminal record, all he had to do was admit that it was he was Waterloo Roads arsonist. And then it hit him, the one good thing about the whole experience - it well and truly distracted his mind. He never once thought about fire. It might have been a pro, but weighing it up against the cons showed that this whole thing just wasn't worth it. Connor would take speaking to a therapist over this.

The sky was darkening; it was almost 7 o'clock. Pulling out his phone to text Imogen as he waited for Barry, Connor wasn't shocked to find he had no new messages. Of course he didn't; why would Christine care where he is, what he is doing? All she cares about it satisfying her addiction, gulping down vodka as if its water. He wondered for a moment what she would say if she knew what he had just done, but that mental query was cut short by the arrival of Barry.

"Sorted?" He said casually, as if they were discussing something other than a drug deal.

Connor pulled out the wad of notes that had been tucked safely into the inside pocket of his coat, and passed it to Barry who automatically uncurled the money and started to count it.

"This isn't enough." The Liverpudlian said, anger beginning to show on his face. "Where's the rest?"

"I don't know, that's all he gave me. I didn't check it because I didn't know how much you were supposed to get."

"If you're lying to me, Connor, I swear to God-"

"I'm not! I swear on Imogen's life, that's all he gave me." The desperation was clear in his voice. Surely, Barry must know that Connor wouldn't steal money from a mentalist like him? "Listen, about this.. arrangement. I want out. I hated every second, it's just not my thing."

Town was almost empty now; Barry rolled the notes back up, put them in his jacket pocket and fixed Connor the same chilling smile from earlier. It was genuinely terrifying, showing Barry's obvious socio-path tendencies. "You what?"

"I mean it, Barry. I don't want to-" Connor was cut off. A fist connected with his mouth, making him tumble backwards. He felt warm blood drip down his face, the source of which being his new split lip.

"I told you, Mulgrew, you don't back out until I say so. Anyway, I think you're going to be quite handy. I don't really show my face around there any more.. knew a lad from there, Sparky his name was. Knew him from Havelock." His voice trailed off with an unmistakable hint of sadness. "There's a lot of people around there whose money could be in my pocket, though." Barry pulled a few notes from his pocket and handed them to Connor. "I'll give you a bell next time I need your assistance then, mate."

...

Arriving home later that night, Connor was shocked to find the house empty, until he realised that his mum was probably just at the pub; her home from home. Throwing his coat over the bannister, he ran upstairs and hid the money inside a copy of Stephen King's The Body. He leant against his book shelf, head firmly in hands, which only caused him to wince in pain. He used the downstairs mirror to clean up the split lip that Barry had been so kind to leave him with; the only redeeming feature was imagining Dynasty's utter fury when she found out.

The front door opened; Christine entered, equipped with a plastic bag from the local off license. "Oh, you're in then. I was going to send out a search party."

Connor didn't reply, hesitant to turn around, knowing that she would notice his lip and bombard him with awkward questions. Which, of course, happened anyway.

"What are you doing?" She asked, putting a finger under his chin and turning his head to face her. "How have you done that?"

"Get off." He mumbled, moving away and walking into the kitchen.

"Have you been fighting?" Christine followed him, unrelenting with the questions.

"What, you care?"

"Of course I do." Her words didn't sound slurred, for once, although it was clear that she was far from sober. "Are you in trouble?"

For a second, he contemplated telling her. Maybe she could actually help him. Maybe knowing that he had embroiled himself in drug dealing out of sheer desperation to get away from her, maybe she would change her ways for good? It was a lost cause, obviously. It would only result in police involvement, and a punch from Barry would seem like bliss compared to the beating he would inevitably have to endure. No, no way.

"I'm fine, Mum, honestly. But I'd be a lot better if you left me alone." It was snappier than he intended.

"Don't push me away, Connor. I know what you think about me drinking, but if you're in trouble I want to know. I want to help you. Is it something to do with fire, again?"

He winced at the mention of his favourite pastime; unbeknownst to Christine, her son was so eager to get away from her because he was focusing all his efforts of keeping fire out of his mind. Right now, he could do with setting the biggest fire of his lifetime.. but he wouldn't. He just wouldn't.

"Stop it. Stop acting like you care. It's only a split lip, and it was an accident. Me and Imogen were play-fighting and I suppose she can hit harder than I imagined."

Connor was upstairs before Christine could reply, not waiting to see whether the lie he had fed her was sufficient. He fell onto his bed, exhausted, attempting not to think about the massive mess he had entangled himself in.


	41. The Perfect Ammunition

Glancing into the blotchy mirror in the girls bathroom, Imogen softly ran her fingers over the scar that lay on the side of her face. The self-conciousness surrounding her injury had long faded away; she had her moments, as anyone would, but she had largely accepted that there was nothing she could do about it at the moment. It was the times when she was Connor, the times when she would see his eyes flicker towards the mark, if only for a second, when she felt rising disgust towards it. He never said anything, never acknowledged it once, but Imogen could almost feel the guilt radiating from him. She hated knowing that she reminded him of the biggest mistake of his life, and she hated knowing what he was putting himself through out of sheer desperation. There wasn't words in the English language accurate enough to sufficiently articulate her feelings towards her boyfriend, especially after everything they had been through together, and a life without him was unimaginable. She just wanted to help him, somehow.

...

"I'm going to kill him!" Dynasty whispered in hushed tones, as Connor relayed the story to Imogen, Kevin and Dynasty during first period. He hadn't wanted to talk about it, but as his lip was pretty noticeable, he couldn't really avoid the questions.

"Don't get involved." Connor pleaded, not wanting to cause trouble for anyone else. "This is my mess, I'll get myself out of it."

"It sounds quite exciting though, doesn't it? Never know, mate, you could be the next Heisenberg, like off Breaking Bad!" Kevin had a knack of making light of a bad situation, although it still didn't cheer Connor up and it earned him a light punch from Dynasty.

"Yeah, dead exciting. My brother is turning one of my best friends into a drug dealer!"

Imogen, who had been quiet all day, finally chirped up. "Why don't you just stop it? Complaining about it isn't going to solve it."

"What's the matter with you?" Connor asked.

"Nothing, I'm fine. It's just that you're putting yourself in danger for no reason, and I don't like it."

"For no reason? Imogen, I'm doing this for us! So we can be together properly, away from all of this. I thought that's what you wanted?"

The atmosphere suddenly transformed, making Kevin and Dynasty feel a little awkward.

"Maybe we were getting ahead of ourselves a little... where are we going to go, Con, even if we do have money?"

Connor sighed; he knew she was right. "It doesn't matter, though, 'cause I'm in too deep with Barry now. I told him I wasn't going to do it any more, that it would only be the once, and that didn't exactly end well. " He gestured to the small cut on the corner of his lip.

"Let me have a word. I promise I'll sort this." Dynasty reassured, although she didn't exactly have great influence over Barry. To keep him from messing with her friends, it was worth a shot.

...

Leaning against the wall cockily, Barry Barry casually pulled a naive year eight aside, turned on the charm and attempted to sell his fifth knock-off necklace of the day. Mixed with his other dodgy scams, he was left incredibly proud of himself; the sole reason that he risked jail and got up to all sorts of dangerous activities was out of love for his family. He'd be lying if he said he didn't enjoy it, though.

"Oi, I need a word." Dynasty eyed the young girl talking to her brother. "Beat it, then!"

"You've just lost me a tenner, you idiot!" Barry said resentfully, as the scared year eight ran away pronto. "What do you want?"

"I told you not to mess Connor around, Barry. He wants out and you're going to let him." She pursed her lips argumentatively, one hand on hip as usual.

Barry chuckled. "Am I now? Listen, sis, I know he's your mate but he's handy. He can do jobs that I can't, meaning we'll have more money for Dads lawyers, and when it comes down to it, who matters more, Dyn? Your friends, or your family?"

"No, you'll get more money for Dad if you let him go! That way, you won't have to cut him in. And don't ever talk to me about family, you flea. You've still not spoken to our Kase properly after the football match."

He still wasn't coping well with Kasey's admission that she was a boy, rather than a girl. "Go away." He mumbled, starting to walk away.

"No! Barry, please, he's had a hard time of it lately. All the stuff with the fire and-" Dynasty stopped, clamping a hand over her mouth.

"You what?" Barry stopped walking, turning to face his sister with a knowing smile. "He started that fire, didn't he?"

"I'm not saying nothing."

"You don't have to sis, you just don't have to." He winked, before leaving to find a new customer.

Dynasty threw herself down miserably on one of the chairs opposite the lockers. Little did she know, she had just given her brother the perfect ammunition to keep Connor tied up in his nasty criminal web.

* * *

AN: the Breaking Bad/Heisenberg reference is just because I've been rewatching it lately and it's too good! basically, the main character in it is an ordinary chemistry teacher who gets diagnosed with lung cancer so starts making meth to pay for his family and becomes this massive drug dealer. if you've never seen it, you should watch it because it's too good. anyway, thanks for reading and again, i hope it's realistic!


	42. All Too Much

"Now, I don't want to be too harsh on you lot. I know you're all working very hard in preparation these exams but these," Mrs Mulgrew said, holding the classes latest essays, with her voice emitting light animosity. "these aren't great." She began moving around the room, allocating the essays to the appropriate authors. For once, Christine felt wholly content. When she first fell off the wagon, it did stir up uneasy feelings of guilt; sobering up highlighted the ways her alcoholism affected certain people. Connor suffered, obviously, but after the revelation that her mother decided not to tell her about the death of her own father, she realised that it was her own lifestyle that drove her mother to such drastic actions. But recently, the guilt disappeared. Instead, Christine made an informed decision to drink, but differently. She would be there for her son, just like she was for the brief sober period. Connor worried her so much, especially now that he had become so hostile against her, so reserved. The split lip he arrived back home with not long ago exacerbated the worry; she justified her drinking by telling herself that without the alcohol, she would more than likely have a nervous breakdown.

"I told you I'm rubbish at English Language." Imogen whispered to a Connor. "I got a D! What did you get?"

"What?" Connor said, previously daydreaming. "Oh, erm, a B."

"That's brilliant! It was so hard as well. You should probably look happier than that, Con! You're still worried about Barry, aren't you?"

He rolled his eyes when he heard his mother begin a rant on the importance of grades. "Sorry."

"Why are you apologising?" Imogen asked, confusedly.

"I'm being such a bad boyfriend at the moment." The smallest of smiles replaced his perpetual frown. "Sorry for being so depressing lately."

Despite being in lesson, she interlocked their fingers. "You've got reasons to be. And no matter how upset you are, I'll always be there for you, I promise."

Connor repaid her welcomed reassurance with his first genuine smile in days; they picked up their pens and worked in comfortable silence for a little while, unaware that one of their best friends was sat behind them, biting softly at her acrylic nails, panicking about the information she had let slip to her sociopath brother. Dynasty was tempted to tell Connor, to warn him of the mess she might have catapulted him into. Unluckily for her, though, as she was deliberating her next move, Barry got there first.

"Why've you got that?" Imogen whispered, noticing Connor pulling his phone out of his pocket.

"Barry told me not to hand it in, incase he needed me." Connor's words were laced with resentment. Glancing to the front of the classroom every so often, he opened the new text with his phone under the desk. "Oh.. no. No, no, no... Imogen, look."

_i know you started the fire._

Six words, that's all it took. Six words to destroy Connor's world, to rip it apart. His stomach churning, his hand shaking, his whole body overcome by nausea - that was it, he knew that he was trapped. No amount of beatings and threats could compare to this; for the last couple of seconds never to have happened, he would take a thousand beatings. Imogen was just as speechless as her distraught boyfriend; she too knew that this cemented his future with regards to Barry.

Acting on instinct, she spun round in her chair, managing to keep her voice to a whisper. "Did you tell him?"

"I'm sorry! It was an accident, it just slipped out.." Dynasty was a shadow of her former self; apologizing desperately, it wasn't her, but she felt so guilty.

Connor was still silent. It was as if time had stopped, however cliche that might be. His biggest secret was now in the hands of the most unpredictable, menacing person in Greenock, there and ready to be twisted, manipulated, even delivered to the police. He was so shocked that he was totally unaware of Dynasty's confession behind him, and was only snapped out of it by another vibration coming from his phone, still balanced in his hand under the desk.

_get to the common room now_

Driven by pure fear, Connor was up and out of the classroom as fast as his legs could carry him, not giving one seconds thought to the fact he would get in trouble for truanting the lesson that just happened to be taught by his mother. Whatever Barry wanted was more important.

Christines looked up from her desk, recognising her son leaving by his elbow patches. "Erm, where is he going?" she said, pointing her question directly at Imogen, who was in the middle of glaring at Dynasty.

"See what you've done now? He's meant to be your mate!" Although Dynasty was her best friend, Imogen was enraged, her fury fuelled by Connor's unexpected exit.

"He is! I didn't mean to tell him, like I said it just slipped out!" The old, feisty Dynasty began to flare back up. "Don't blame this on me!"

Cutting off Imogen's reply, Christine decided enough was enough. "So.. are you two going to tell me what the hell is going on?"

Her recent suspicions were confirmed; if her son wouldn't tell her what was going on, the people closest to him were her only option.

...

In the short time it took to get from his mothers classroom to the common room, the overwhelming pyromania related feelings managed to make an unwanted reappearance to Connor. Fire got him into this mess, surely fire wouldn't let him down; it would get him out of this mess, too. Each step was physically forced, leaving the numb boy walking in a trance-like state. He must have looked odd to passers-by, but right now, it was the least of his worries. Connor just knew that Barry had probably summoned him to force him into yet another traumatising drug deal or something else awful, and he couldn't refuse, not anymore. It wouldn't just be a split lip or a beating, it would probably be Barry spilling all to Mr Byrne, or the police. The whole school would find out he was the monster that scarred Imogen, he would be public enemy number one and his life would be ruined forever. Sighing desolately, Connor finally arrived at the common room, after what seemed like the longest walk of his life, where Barry stood casually in front of the bookshelf, pretending to be interested in them.

Connor spluttered a half-hearted greeting, unable to formulate words.

"Oh, alright lad. I got you a little present, as it goes." The maniac scouser pulled out a purple disposable lighter. "Just my little joke."

"Are you going tell anyone?"

"I haven't decided yet."

"Please don't. It's not just me that will get in trouble, Barry." Suddenly, he had a brainwave. "Dynasty knows.. they could fine her for lying."

Anger flashed in Barry's eyes. "Don't you dare bring her into this, you little freak. I'm not going to tell anyone, so chill out. But you do understand what this means, don't you? It means you're mine. You are mine, and you'll do what I tell you. There's no more of you wanting out, Connor, because I think you underestimate my creativity. I won't simply tell Mr Byrne, or the police.. I'll blow your little world apart, mate. Now, go on, you had best get back to lesson. Wouldn't want any teachers getting suspicious now, would we? I'll be in touch."

...

He walks. He walks and he carries on walking; out of the building, away from any restrictions, off school premises, to the woods.

The woods are eerily quiet, almost as if its inhabitants predicted his arrival. Or maybe, it was all in his head. The exaggerated paranoia caught up with him; what if it was all a setup? What if his mum had driven him into Barrys hands, knowing this is where he would come and the police were waiting, ready to lock him up and throw away the key? Connor shook the unlikely thought away, collapsing into a heap at his usual spot. He hadn't succumbed to the pyro-mania in a while; awhile that he was very proud of, but carrying a lighter was his essential, just like vodka was his mothers.

And there he was, once again. Burning the leaves that were unquestionably metaphorical to his life, to his problems.

...

As if texts hadn't caused him enough grief today, Connor's phone vibrated again as he entered the house later that night.

_hey, you okay? just a warning, your mum was asking me and dyn some pretty awkward questions after you left. managed to throw her off the scent a bit but reckon she's pretty suspicious. let me know what's going on, i'm worried about you. xx _

Great, he thought. Having a drunken Christine pelting him with questions that he couldn't answer was all Connor needed after today. He was so close to cracking under the pressure everything, and this was only intensified by the constant realisation that no-one was to blame for his problems but himself. Kicking off his shoes, Connor entered the living room and to his surprise, he was greeted by a coffee-drinking Christine.

"We need a chat." She said predictably.

"I really can't be bothered with this, mum. I don't know what they told you but I'm fine. I'm okay."

"You're far from okay, so sit down, right now." It was Christine's authoritative voice, mainly used when dealing with unruly students.

Reluctantly, Connor took a seat next to her on the sofa. "What do you want?"

"Tell me what's going on. Why did you walk out of lesson, why did you have a split lip and why do you look like death warmed up? And I want the truth."

"Why are you so sure something is going on?"

"Because I can smell the smoke, Connor. You've been messing with fire, and you only do that when you're upset."

"I'm sorry, Mum." The words fell from his mouth unexpectedly, the last thing he thought he would be doing today was apologising to her. "What did Imogen tell you?"

"Nothing much.. they said you're involved in something but they couldn't tell me or it would make it worse for you."

"Understatement of the century." Connor mumbled, resentfully.

"Whatever it is, just tell me. I can help!"

"No, you can't. I wish you could. I hate the fact that you're drinking again but for once, I really wish you could help me." Already, he was letting the emotions of the day get the better of him. He had to leave the room, now, before he said something he knew he would regret, but it was as if he was paralysed.

"Is that it?" Christine asked. "You're lashing out because of me?"

"No! And I'm not lashing out, I've just got myself mixed up in something but it's fine, I can handle it." Connor spoke as if to reassure himself, not his mother, whose suspicions were rising with every second that passed.

"Really? Because right now, you don't look like you can handle it." She was referring to her son's appearance; his skin was paler than usual, the bags under his eyes indicated anxiety, and the crimson coloured gash on the corner of his mouth spoke for itself.

Connor was silent for a little while, contemplating his next move. The idea of telling her everything seemed heavenly, especially as she was acting like sober Christine for the first time in months. It wasn't an option, though, and he knew it. He felt trapped, more trapped than ever before. It was as if the walls were closing in on him; he felt constantly nauseous, stressed to within an inch of his life. Before he knew it, the rough events of the day finally caught up with him. Tears formulated in his eyes, stinging ever so slightly, and before Connor knew it, he was breaking down.

Christine was at a loss. With their relationship being so rocky lately, she knew she was lucky to have this much conversation out of him. For the past couple of months it had been a monosyllabic tone and the occasional grunt and seeing him next to her, his whole body shaking with sobs.. it was a shock. Maternal instinct took over, and she engulfed him in a hug, which Connor accepted without protest.

Her own voice threatening to crack at this whole odd situation, she ran a hand through his hair, something she used to do when he was crying after having a nightmare as a child, Christine spoke softly. "Whatever it is, we'll sort it. Everything is going to be fine."


	43. Confessions

He didn't understand why he broke down, in front of her of all people. She was the sole reason he was running himself into the ground, tangling himself up in dangerous situations that he really didn't want to be in, situations that he needed to get out of. That's why, as Connor lay in bed that night, he made one of the hardest decisions of his life. It was time for him to take control of his life; control was the one thing he desired, constantly.

...

Eight am rolled around surprisingly quickly considering Connor didn't get a wink of sleep all night. Daylight flooded into his bedroom when he pulled open the curtains half-heartedly; his bones aching, craving the solitude of his bed rather than school. He didn't want to speak to his mum, either, because after last night Connor knew that she would think all was forgiven, that he approves of the drinking now. He doesn't, and he never will. After adding the finishes touches to his uniform with his trademark cardigan adorned with the brown elbow patches, he made his way downstairs attempting to compartmentalise his thoughts well enough so that he could decide how he was going to tell Imogen what he was planning on doing without her kicking off .

"I have to be at school early for a meeting so unless you want to hang around until registration, you'll have to walk." Christine informed him, whilst gulping down the remnants of whatever was in her coffee mug. She didn't get a response. "How you feeling? You were in a right state last night."

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't want to talk about it." He mumbled, sitting down at the table.

It was silent for a little while, save for the gentle rustling of Christine grabbing whatever she needed for the day. "You know that you can talk to me, right?"

Connor nodded, deciding it was probably the best time to let her know what he was planning. "There's, er, something you should probably know." His mum turned to look, intrigued by his tone. "I need to tell someone.. I need to tell someone it was me that started the fire."

That well and truly got Christine's attention; the fire, for her, felt like years ago, a matter of unimportance now. "What? No, no way. I won't let you!"

"It's not up to you."

"Really?" She said, narrowing her eyebrows. "And what does Imogen have to say about this?"

"I haven't told her yet. I'll tell her at school, but she'll understand. Unlike you." He muttered the last words, bitter ness evident in his voice.

"No, Connor, it's not that I don't understand, I do. I know how bad you feel about what happened, but the police closed the case! All you would be doing by confessing is getting yourself into unnecessary trouble. You really want to ruin your life, ruin Imogen's life, because you've had a stab of conscience?"

"It's not that-"

"Oh. It's something to do with that.. thing you're mixed up in, isn't it?"

"Yeah." Connor said miserably, quickly adding, "But I'm still not going to tell you what it is, so don't ask."

Christine sighed, wishing there was some way she could get him to confide in her. She glanced at the clock. "I have to go. Don't do anything until you've spoken to Imogen, okay? And, please, just rethink this. Like, I said last night, whatever it is, we can sort it. You don't have to do this, son."

...

The voices that crowded the halls of Waterloo Road today had become ridiculously insignificant to Connor since he arrived. Normally, he would see someone he was relatively friendly with, stop and talk to them for a while rather than wandering aimlessly down the halls alone. But ever since this morning, he felt as if saying the words out loud made his impending plan all the more real - he was actually going to do this. Fear engulfed him, fear he didn't even know he had. The repercussions were becoming clearer, but the one thing he was not sure about was how long someone got for arson. What if he got sent away for years?

"Hey!" Imogen appeared beside Connor, who didn't acknowledge her. "Connor?" She nudged him gently. "Everything okay?"

"I need to talk to you." He said cryptically, unable to look her in the eye knowing he might be about to land her in big trouble. "It's about the fire. I'm going to tell Mr Byrne it was me. He'll probably have to tell the police, but I thought you should know first."

Imogen winced at the mention of the blaze; the implication of what her boyfriend just said starting to sink in. "What? No! You can't."

"I have to, Imogen. Barry knows it was me, but if I own up before he can drop me in it then he's hasn't got a hold over me. Yeah, I'll get in trouble with the police and Barry will probably beat me up when I tell him I'm not working for him anymore, but it'll be worth it. I won't have to do those jobs for him anymore."

"B-but Connor, what if they send you to jail? What if they send me to jail?" She stuttered, panic setting in.

"They won't. The most they'll do to you is fine you and I'll give you the money that I made from Barry for that. Don't worry, I have everything planned out."

Imogen didn't speak. She knew in her heart of hearts that he needed to do this; if it got him away from Barry, then whatever consequences they might face were fully worth it. But it frightened her. She could cope with being fined, even getting a criminal record - the one thing she feared the most was the idea of Connor being sent to jail. He was vulnerable, really vulnerable, wouldn't last a week in a prison cell. "Are you sure about this?"

Connor hesitated, reaching out for Imogen's hand as if searching for comfort. "I'm sure. It's the right thing to do."

"Then I'll be there for you. I'm just as much a part of this as you. We'll do it together."

...

"Oh, hello, you two." Sonya, the loveable school receptionist, said as Connor and Imogen entered the office. "What can I do for ya?"

"We need to see Mr Byrne." Imogen spoke first, attempting to keep confidence in her voice, trying to trick herself into believing everything was fine more than anything.

"Well, er, he's in a meeting with Miss Donnegan at the moment but that shouldn't take too long, take a seat and wait if you like."

They did as the receptionist said, sitting down in uncomfortable silence. Neither wanted to say anything, although what they both needed at the moment was some reassurance from each other. Hands still clasped together, fingers twirled haphazardly throughout the others'.. the teenagers were anxiety personified. Time passed agonisingly slowly, each minute felt like hours and when Mr Byrne finally came out of his office and gestured for them to enter, Connor had almost bitten his nails right off.

"What can I do for you two then?" The exhausted headteacher asked; it had been a pretty hard day. He looked at Connor. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

Once again, Imogen spoke first. "There's something we need to, um, tell you."

"Well, go on then."

This was it, now or never. Connor thought hurriedly about all the excuses he could reel off his tongue to get him out of this room, but one quick glance at Imogen's face, waiting for him to speak, and his decision was cemented - he couldn't back out. It had to be now.

"I know that it was a while ago now, but something has happened recently that has made me realise I need to tell someone what really happened."

Michael sat up in his chair, suddenly interested. "Connor, spit it out."

"It was me. I started the fire that scarred Imogen, and all the other ones too. I'm the arsonist."


	44. Confessions Pt 2

The admission floated around in the air awkwardly like an unwanted visitor, no-one in the room knowing what to say next. Connor stared anxiously at the dumbfounded headteacher, desperate for him to break the silence as the shock of finally telling someone other than his friends about the true events of that day had hit him. What happens in the next few moments could define his life forever; his freedom could be compromised, and the silence only created suspense.

"Connor, do you realise the seriousness of your confession?"

A single nod. Christine was called to the office, looking shaken. All day, the worry that Connor would actually confess had eaten away at her, only abated by the small hope that Imogen would talk him out of it. Mr Byrne asked a couple more neutral questions before explaining that due to school policy, the police would have to be called. A second nod, and everything happened quickly. A police car turned up; Connor told Christine he didn't want her to go to the station with him and was led away by two officers. The police station interview was the part he had been dreading the most. It was where he was undoubtedly going to break down when forced to answer the hard questions he had avoided answering when his own mother asked. Why do you it? Why fire?

...

A stony-faced police officer explained the formalities to a frightened Connor, who had been led into an interview room at the local station. An appropriate adult wasn't required as he was already 17, so the officer set up the tape straight away.

"My name is DCI Banks, the time is 15.35. State your name and age, please."

"Connor Mulgrew, 17 years old." He mumbled, pulling his cardigan securely over his hand.

"I'm going to be asking you some questions relating to your recent admission that you were responsible for the fire at Waterloo Road that resulted in the hospitalisation of yourself and Imogen Stewart. Do you understand?" A third nod. "Good. Can you explain your reasoning for committing arson at your school, Mr Mulgrew?"

"It's, er, a long story."

"Oh, we have time, I assure you." DCI Banks said, the unrelenting cockiness of a police officer becoming clear.

"It's what I do.. it's what I did," He corrected himself; fire was his past now. "Everything built up. It all got too much, and I couldn't deal with anything. I felt alone, scared, angry.. I know it must sound stupid to you, but fire was my escape. It started small, a pile of leaves in the garden or something. I was never meant to hurt anyone, you have to believe me."

Fighting back the stinging tears, Connor's words were genuinely heartfelt. DCI Banks sighed, she had been working in the police force long enough to know what was going on here; this wasn't a criminal, this was just a messed-up teenager. Her next questions, unbeknownst to Connor, were chosen tactfully. With each answer, the driving force behind this boys troubles were becoming clearer for the police officer - pyromania. It wasn't too common, but she had seen it before. After a while, she left the room briefly and returned with another woman.

"Mr Mulgrew, this is Robin. She's our psychologist, and she would like to ask you a few questions."

"Psychologist?"

"Don't be alarmed, that's just a posh name." Robin said, in a surprisingly soothing voice. "I just want a chat. It's in your best interests, Connor."

"Fine." He sighed. He couldn't exactly refuse, it was still a police matter after all. "What do you want to know?"

"Let's start of simply. Do you remember the first time you set a fire out of anger? Take your time."

...

_At only fifteen years old, Connor Mulgrew had way too much to deal with. School was getting increasingly harder as the all important GCSE'S were coming up, but to be honest, he didn't mind school. It was a welcome distraction from his home life. The teachers never even batted an eyelid, never once became suspicious of what was going on behind closed doors, but then, why would they? Christine was good at keeping her secret. Ever since Connor could remember, his mother drank. Ever since he was old enough to understand the concept of alcoholism, Connor wanted her to stop. But she never did. _

_Things came to boiling point the day Connor decided to take it upon himself to make sure his mum wouldn't be able to drink, if only for a night. His decision stemmed from something that happened earlier that day, at school. In English, Christine was shaking. It was only noticeable to Connor, though, because he knew that she had slept in that morning and didn't have time to get to the off-license. A warning about lates had already been issued to the teacher and if there's one thing alcoholics hate, its unnecessary attention. The brief withdrawal must have become all too much, and Christine sunk to a new low. She pulled Connor out of the lesson, took him outside and told him to go to the shop for her. He refused; she turned on the manipulation and before he knew it, Connor was on the way to the local off-license, the one that was notorious for serving underage kids. All the way there and back he cooked up a clever story if he was caught truanting.. which, unluckily for him, he was. To Connor, sneaking in through the kitchens was a great idea; the cooks would have gone home, no-one one would find him. He didn't bank on the cleaners being there, though. One of the cleaners just happened to be the head-teachers wife, would you believe it? He was marched straight to the office, and Christine was furious.  
_

_"How could you be so stupid? I gave you a simple job, and you messed up. I can't trust you at all, can I?" _

_"Don't have a go at me!" Connor shouted, in the middle of an argument when they were home that night."You shouldn't have put me in that position!" _

_"Don't be so dramatic, Connor, I only asked you to buy a bottle of vodka. It's what kids your age do every weekend! It's what you would be doing if you would relax and make some friends!" Her voice was awfully patronising, only serving to fuel Connor's anger further. _

_He noticed she had stocked up again; a large bottle of the strongest vodka you could buy was perched on the kitchen sideboard. It gave him an idea. A crazy idea, that would only make his mum mental, but it would be worth it. Glancing at the clock, it confirmed what he had thought - all the shops would be closed, so if his plan worked, she would have to go without for the night. __Smiling, he looked Christine straight in the eye, clutched the bottle of alcohol, and casually dropped it onto the kitchen floor. The smash was piercing, but to Connor, satisfying. _

_"What the hell did you do that for?!" Christine shouted, looking desperately at the shards of glass lying on the floor._

_"The shops will be shut, Mum. I suppose you'll just have to go without." He tried to keep the amusement out of his voice, but it was impossible. He was pretty proud of himself. _

_"You idiot!" All rational thoughts disappearing, the raging alcoholic grabbed her sons arm and dragged him towards the door. Opening it, she pushed him outside and hissed, "You don't get back in until you've got something I can drink. And when you do, you're grounded." _

_The door slammed. Connor was speechless; he knew his mum was borderline unhinged, but to actually throw him out? Well, it was safe to say his plan had not gone as intended. The most he expected was a screaming match and to be grounded.. but this, whoa. Once the initial shock had passed, the fury returned. She was still an awful human being and he was still stuck with her. As he had said, all the shops were shut, so there was nowhere for him to go to get her the alcohol she so desperately craved. Any other alcoholic would have bottles stashed everywhere, around the house and even in the car, but this was no normal alcoholic - this was Christine Mulgrew, and in Connor eyes, the most messed up woman in Scotland. Connor started to walk aimlessly around the estate they currently lived on, believing the fresh air would clear his head. He walked and walked and walked. He pulled out of a pair of headphones that were stuffed into his coat pocket, and as he was distractedly untangling them, Connor stumbled.. over a clean-looking disposable lighter. Having nothing better to do, he picked it up and automatically ran his thumb over the roller. _

_It was a strange feeling. It was as if the singular flame focused his concentration - at that moment, nothing else existed. No alcoholic mother, no wandering around the streets on a freezing cold November night. The feelings were so engulfing that he almost ignored his phone starting to ring; it was his mum. _

_"I'm sorry, son. Come home." _

_... _

Robin, the psychologist, bombarded Connor with questions until the tears he had been fighting back managed to break through. Eventually, she stopped, and the dark interview room was silent but for the rustling of notes.

"It seems to me you display crucial symptoms of pyromania. It's an impulse control disorder. Have you heard of it?"

He nodded miserably; thanks to Google, he had known that's what he had for a while now, but didn't want to confront it. Sometimes, confrontation makes things scarily real.

"Connor, I'm going to recommend that, on top of your police sentencing, you attend regular sessions with a counsellor. Don't look so worried, I'll take the sessions if you feel that would be better for you."

He attempted a smile. Robin was actually quite an endearing character; she was the type of person you felt you could confide in without being judged, she was a listener, and that was obvious. It was time for him to ask his own question. "Am I going to prison?"

...

DCI Banks explained that they would be putting him on probation, and issuing him with a criminal record. He asked what would happen to Imogen, but they refused to answer due to confidentiality. The legalities were done, and Connor was released. He declined their offers of a lift home - in his emotional, confused state, Connor had an idea, which involved the one person who had catapulted him into this mess.

...

"Mum?" Connor said, as he entered the house later that night.

Christine appeared from the living room. "Oh, God, Connor, you've been hours!"

"In the middle of the interview, they brought this psychologist in so it took longer." Oddly, he was more upbeat than he should be, given what he had just been through. "I'm on probation and I've got a record. Oh, and I have to see a counsellor regularly apparently. They said they'd be in touch."

"Are you okay? You're acting strange." She asked, following her son as he walked through to the kitchen, pulling out a loaf of bread and sticking two slices into the toaster. She knew him well; normally, he would have broken down in tears after an ordeal like that.

Connor just grinned. "Remember that time you kicked me out because I smashed your bottle of vodka?"

"What? Oh, God." It all clicked into place. She had been teaching teenagers long enough to realise what was going on. "Empty your pockets."

"No."

"Empty your pockets, right now, or I'll do it for you." Christine walked up to him, getting a closer look at his eyes. "You're stoned."

He threw his arms around her, pulling her into a hug. "I love you, Mum."

"Yeah, well, I'll have to decide whether I still love you in the morning, you idiot."

* * *

ok so hello.. two things i'm not entirely sure on - the whole 'tripping over a lighter' thing (don't know whether it's realistic) and the getting stoned thing. i hope you don't think it's too out of character! anyway, let me know what you think and cheers for reading! x


	45. Should I Stay Or Should I Go?

He's in school, alone. He doesn't know how he ended up here, all he knows is that he needs to get out, something doesn't feel right. A distant scream is heard; it's recognisable, and it sends a shiver down his spine. He has to find out where it's coming from. He ends up at his mother's classroom, and his instincts have served him right.

The door has transformed; in its place, there is a clear pane of glass. Why is it so warm?

The screaming gets louder – it scares him because it's so familiar.

Connor looks through the glass cautiously, afraid of what he'll see. His heart drops.

Flames are smouldering around the room graciously, sweeping with ease. This time, though, the amber heat doesn't calm him down. It sickens him.

There are people in there, he notices, after the initial shock passes. There are a lot of people in there. His mum and Imogen appear first, both look ghostly white. They're sat calmly, not moving an inch… then their heads snap towards the glass and they stare Connor in the eye.

"Help us." They say simultaneously, in monotonous voices. "You did this. Help us."

Tears roll down his cheeks. He kicks the glass in a feeble attempt to break it – it doesn't smash. He tries again; the same outcome.

More people appear; this time, it's Kevin and Dynasty. Oddly, the former is in a suit and the latter is in a white dress. They begin chanting the same message as the others; soon all four are looking Connor straight in the eye. He tries again and again to smash the glass but his efforts are in vain. He is getting more and more anxious; he runs a hand through his hair desperately.

And then, he feels something in his hand; a smooth object and a box. He looks down and identifies them; a lighter and a box of matches. He tries to shake them off but it's no use – as soon as they fall to the ground, more appear. Before long, two appear, three, four, and five.. until he his knee deep in arsonist essentials. He tries to scream, but they are multiplying too quickly, he is up to his neck in boxes of matches; eerily, some spontaneously light.

And he starts to struggle for air.. and blackness.

The chanting stops.

…

Connor jolted awake, panting for air. The dream began to fade away almost as soon as he opened his eyes, but the terrified faces of the people he loved the most are all too prominent, as if etched into his memory. Shaking his head in a feeble attempt to rid them, he winced painfully as he felt the after-effects of last nights actions. He groaned, sitting upright in bed. An aching head would be nothing compared to what his mum was going to do to him, and Imogen? She would be furious. To be honest, he was pretty angry at himself.

He attempted to piece the night back together again as he got ready for school. School. Was he even allowed back? He remembered declining the offer of a lift home from the nice counsellor, but not going home. Instead, he stopped at a random bus stop and pulled out his phone, calling the one number he never wanted to use again - Barry Barry. The sheer amount of smugness on Barry's face when he heard Connor's request must have been phenomenal; it was a hilarious turn of events, to him anyway. Connor sounded desperate, though, so Barry relented.

The rest was there, but it was hazy. He remembered his head feeling light, his eyes feeling heavy. Walking home that night, every innocent howl of the wind and crunch of a leaf under his feet made Connor jump, the paranoia beginning to develop. Luckily, it disappeared before he got home. Unluckily, it swapped with hilarity and he dreaded to think what he was saying to Christine when he came in. He vaguely remembered saying something along the lines of I love you; he hadn't told her that since he was a child.

Christine didn't even look at her son when he came downstairs that morning. She simply said, "You have a meeting with Michael after registration."

Connor nodded. "Mum, I'm sorry-"

"I don't want to hear it. Just make sure you're at that meeting." She said sternly, and she was out of the door without another word.

...

The meeting wasn't high on Connor's priority list at the moment, Imogen was. In his state last night, he hadn't even texted her to see how she was and he felt terrible about it. He buried his head in arms, resting his head on the table so he could close his eyes momentarily.

"Hey." Imogen said, taking a seat next to boyfriend. "So, I'm being fined for perverting the course of justice."

"Seriously? Oh, god. I never wanted any of this to happen. I'm on probation, and they gave me a criminal record. You're officially the girlfriend of a criminal, how do you feel?" He joked.

"Good job I love a bad boy, eh?" She winked. "Don't worry about it. It's over now, isn't it?"

"I've got a meeting with Byrne after form, so I guess we'll find out then. Oh, and Mum isn't talking to me."

"Why?"

"Don't kick off." He thought about lying, but he knew all too well how much lies complicated matters. "I, er, sort of.. got stoned, with Barry."

Explaining to Imogen only heightened his embarrassment and general feelings of stupidity. He watched his girlfriends face intently, looking for some sort of reaction, but he didn't get one. Instead, Imogen simply grabbed her bag and moved to sit with Dynasty. Groaning, Connor couldn't muster the energy to shout her back and face the inevitable argument; sleeping with his head on the desk seemed much more appealing.

...

As Connor waited tensely on the chairs outside Mr Byrnes office, his phone buzzed.

_so you got stoned, whatever, just don't turn into a druggie on me, alright? good luck with the meeting and let me know what happens. i love you xxx _

Those last three words helped to calm his nerves, if only so slightly. Trust Imogen to be so understanding about the whole thing while he was overcome with feelings of idiocy. _Just mum to win over now_, Connor thought. He knew fine well he could win her forgiveness, all he had to do was turn on the charm. It worked in Year 10 when he was suspended for three days for truanting; when the girl you fancy asks you to skip lesson with her, you don't refuse. Connor had to fight to keep the fond smile from his face, remembering where he was and the importance of the impending meeting. As he wondered whether or not his mum would have to be present, Mr Byrne opened the door.

"Come in." He said authoritatively, leading Connor into his office. "Take a seat."

Sat on pulled-up chairs next to Michael's desk was, oddly, Mr Clarkson.

"I'm going to make this quick. I've spoken to the police, and they have explained the situation to me. I, for one, am glad you won't be going to prison, however, Ms Donnegan thinks otherwise. She couldn't be here today, but she would like me to tell you that if she had it her way, you would be out on your ear."

"So are you kicking me out?"

"No, we are not kicking you out. But, just like with the police, you're on probation. You put one toe out of line and you're gone. Now, Mr Clarkson has something he wants to talk to you about." Michael explained, gesturing for Tom to take over.

"Connor, how long have you been smoking cannabis?" Mr Clarkson asked casually.

"W-what?"

"You heard me." Noting the confusion painted on the boys face, he went on. "I was talking to your mum earlier in the staffroom. Do you know how worried she is?"

Suddenly, it all clicked. "Oh.. oh no, Sir, she's got it all wrong."

"So you didn't come home stoned last night then? You're telling me she's lying, are you?" Tom was getting increasingly serious now; it was history repeating itself.

"Well, yeah, I did but-"

"No buts. You know my son, Josh, don't you? I went through it with him back in Rochdale. It caused all sorts of complications for him, Connor, and I know exactly how your mother is feeling right now. Smoking drugs is not big or cool, and it certainly doesn't solve your problems. Ask him, if you like. We'd just like you to know that there's support available in school, if you ever need a chat."

"With all due respect, Sir, shut up. You have no idea what I'm going through! And for the record, it's the first and last time I've used drugs." Connor stormed out of the office without looking back, furious at Christine's betrayal.

How could she tell the teachers about last night, especially when he was holding onto his place at Waterloo Road by the skin of his teeth?


	46. Connor and Imogen's Normal Day

Lounging miserably underneath a tree, an angry and confused Connor attempted to vent his fury by ripping blades of grass from their roots. He was finding it quite therapeutic, and although he was supposed to go straight to lesson after his meeting, he decided that sitting alone, wallowing in self-pity seemed more appealing than going to English. He wasn't stupid; he knew all too well that he was in even more trouble after his storm out, but something in him snapped. Ever since Christine gave him what closely resembled the silent treatment this morning, Connor had been feeling fairly guilty about getting stoned. It wasn't him, and after all the resistance and disgust he showed towards his mother's drinking, well, he felt a little hypocritical. It wasn't a nice experience, either. Barry was infuriatingly smug about the whole thing; it was going to be even harder to refuse to do Barry's jobs now, even though he had come forward as the arsonist. Connor was so engrossed in his thoughts, he didn't notice Imogen making her way over until she sat down and said, "How did it go then?"

Looking up, Connor smiled. It's strange how someones mere presence can lighten your mood. "They're not kicking me out."

"Thank God! I don't think I'd be able to cope with this place on my own." She joked, noticing the misery written all over his face. "So, come on. What's the matter now?"

"It's nothing, really. I don't know if I'm overreacting but it looks like Mum has told all the teachers that I'm a full-blown drug addict."

Imogen's eyebrows crinkled in confusion. "What do you mean? Why would she do that?"

"I got a lecture off Clarkson in the meeting about the dangers of drugs, said he was talking to her in the staff room. They asked me how long I'd been smoking it and if I knew the seriousness of it all. I'm in even more trouble now though, I kicked off a bit." He cringed. "But I was just angry! What I don't understand is why she would tell them.. she knew I was on the verge of getting kicked out. That could have just, like, cemented my fate."

"She won't have done it on purpose 'cause she did seem genuinely worried in English just then, asking if anyone had heard from you and stuff."

"Why aren't you there anyway?"

"I told her I had a dentist appointment." Imogen smiled. "I don't think she believed it but I walked out anyway, I wanted to see if you were alright because you didn't text me back."

Connor laughed and slung his arm around his girlfriends shoulder, pulling her closer; in turn, Imogen rested her head gently against his chest. "Can we do something normal tonight?" He asked, breaking the peace and quiet. "Just something that normal couples do, no chaos."

"My mum won't be in tonight, if you want to come round. We'll watch a film or something. That's normal, right?"

"Normal enough for me." He smiled, leaning down to kiss her.

...

Anxiousness had captured Connor today; despite being with Imogen and knowing the majority of students didn't know about his responsibility regarding the fire, he still avoided everyone's gaze in the corridor as he made his way through the corridor. It felt like the longest walk of his life, and with each step he became more and more paranoid that people were staring at him. His phone vibrated.

_meet me at the gates now _

"Are you going to go?" Imogen asked, reading the text over his shoulder.

"I suppose.. I need to tell him he's got nothing on me, don't I?"

"He's not going to react well, is he? Do you want me to come with you?"

"I've already had you truanting once today." He joked, masking the worry in his voice. "Anyway, I don't want you there incase he kicks off."

"Dyn told him not to."

"Yeah, like that's going to stop him." Connor smiled endearingly. "Right, I better go. If the teacher asks just say I've got a dentist appointment or something. And remember, whatever happens, we're still doing a normal couple thing tonight!"

...

Barry smirked cockily as he watched Connor walk over to meet him. Turns out, Dynasty had already told him that Connor owned up to the fire, and he was absolutely furious. How could he have not seen that coming? He needed Connor to do the jobs that he couldn't; Carol was notching up the pressure to raise money for the lawyers. Apparently, his dad got himself in some sort of trouble inside and the legal team were bumping up their prices in order to stop his sentence being extended.

"Alright pal." Barry said, flicking away the end of the rolled-up cigarette he had been smoking. "Good night last night, eh?"

"Yeah, look, about that. It was a mistake, I shouldn't have done it. What do you want?"

"I've got a job for you, the Weller estate again. And I'm not taking no for an answer."

Connor sighed; how was he meant to get his point across when this is what he was up against? "You can't force me to deliver drugs for you, Barry." He should've expected it, really. A fist connected with the side of his face, and he found himself being pushed up against the fence.

"If this is how you want to play it, fine. I know you told the police about the fire so you think I've got nothing on you, but trust me, Connor, I can make your life hell if I want to. And if I find out you've talked to any teachers about this, I swear to God you'll wish you never even met me, alright?" He let go of Connor, who didn't say a word. Barry watched with fury as he walked back into school; nobody treats him like that. Nobody is allowed to just walk away from a job and thinks they can get away with it. Connor loves fire, Barry thought, well then, fire he will get.

...

Luck was never on Connor's side. That fact didn't change today, in fact, it was made all too clear when he entered the lesson he was supposed to be in, to find his mother covering it. Rolling his eyes, he attempted to cover the cut on his face with his hand and went to sit next to Imogen.

"How'd it go?" Imogen whispered. "You're bleeding." She moved his hand away, gently. "Did he do this?"

"No, Mr Byrne did it. Of course he did it!" Connor snapped, his words dripping with sarcasm.

"Alright, don't take it out on me! What did he say?"

"Sorry." He said he had a job for me, I told him I wasn't going to do it, he hit me, threatened me and then I walked away." Full of resentment, he winced as he wiped away the blood with his cardigan sleeve. Gesturing towards the front of the classroom, Connor asked, "Has she said anything?"

"Yeah, about that. I told her you were at the dentist, then I realised she'd probably know if you were there.." Her voice trailed off.

Connor chuckled; forgetting where he was, he impulsively kissed her. "You're an idiot, do you know that? Oh, it doesn't matter. She's not even talking to me."

They spent the rest of the lesson chatting about how to make their night as normal as possible, arguing light-heartedly over who gets to choose the film. Both were determined to spend at least one night together without anything going wrong - no serious arguments, no alcoholic mothers and no accidental scars. Just the two of them, happy in each others company. The bell went, and Connor's bad luck struck again.

"Connor, a word please." Christine said, just as he was about to leave. He asked Imogen to wait at the bottom of the stairs and reluctantly went and sat on one of the tables at the front. "What's that?"

"What?" Realising what she meant, Connor self-consciously covered the mark on his face. "Oh, it's nothing."

"Well, it's clearly not nothing! Let me see."

"No." He mumbled, recoiling as she moved forward. "What do you care anyway? You could have got me thrown out this morning!"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, you told all your staff-room mates about what happened last night! Mr Clarkson seems to think I have a problem!"

Christine merely rolled her eyes, and went to sit behind the desk. It was the end of the day, so the owner of the classroom was unlikely to come back. It spurred the alcoholic to do something she had never done before; pulling out the vodka from her handbag, she ignored the disgusted looks coming from her son and filled her mug. "What did you expect? I had to tell someone. I didn't know what to do!"

"You could have just asked me. If you did, you would've known how much I regret it. Oh, and I'm not excluded by the way, seeing as though you never asked." Connor felt sick watching her drink so publicly. Part of him wished a teacher would walk in and catch her, but the thought of having to leave and not seeing Imogen quickly blasted that thought away.

"Connor, for God's sake, can you stop acting like I'm the devil in disguise? I do love you, no matter what you might think, and seeing you in that state last night wasn't nice. I've worked with teenagers long enough to know what that stuff can do, and I don't intend to let you end up the same way as those wasters. Now, tell me how you got that cut."

"I can't." Connor ignored the rest of her speech. He slung his bag over his shoulder and left; a full blown argument would ruin his night with Imogen, and he wasn't about to let that happen in a hurry.

...

Imogen returned from the bathroom dressed in a baggy t-shirt and leggings; it wasn't much, but to Connor, she looked exquisite. He had stopped at his house on the way home to change, pulling on the cleanest t-shirt he could find and a generic pair of skinny jeans. They got back to Imogen's and agreed, after some friendly bickering, that they would watch The Shining; the very film they watched on their first date. As they got comfy in Imogen's bed, it was as if the last couple of months never happened. This was what got them through the hard times. Once you take away the troubles, it was the both of them against the world, nothing more, nothing less. Suddenly, Imogen jumped.

"This isn't even a scary bit!" Connor laughed.

"No, no.. it's not the film." The seriousness on her face began to show. "I think my mum's just come in. Shh, listen."

Sure enough, the door slammed and the shrill voice of Sally Stewart could be heard. "Imogen! Imogen, are you in?"

"I thought you said she was out!" Connor whispered, although he didn't know why he was panicking. What's the worst that could happen? Maybe it would be good for Sally to finally find out that they're back together.

"Yeah, I'll be down in a minute!" Imogen shouted, jumping out of bed. "She's obviously back early, isn't she? Just be quiet and I'll go and see what's happening."

"What am I meant to do?"

"Stay here. She can't know you're here, Connor, she'll try and stop me seeing you."

"Fine, but if you think I'm jumping out of your window, you can think again."


	47. Barry's Revenge

He pulled on a black hoodie. There was still students milling around, doing after-school revision, and the teachers never leave until late. He couldn't risk being seen. The pivotal part of his plan required him to stay hidden; if he was seen, he wouldn't be able to pin the blame on that scumbag Connor Mulgrew, would he?

Barry peered into the windows of every classroom and entered the first one that was empty. Mrs Mulgrew's classroom. How appropriate. He knew that they had a rocky relationship, Dynasty had told him, although he didn't know the exact reason. Whatever it was, it meant Connor now had the perfect motive. Barry felt no fear, he was too fuelled with adrenaline. Adrenaline mixed with the strong belief that no-one messes you around, well, it's a motivational mix.

Once in the classroom, he checked there were no CCTV cameras. You never know with this place.

Rolls of tissue were laid carefully onto the floor. He doused them in petrol, and without another thought, flicked a lit match onto the pile of accelerant. He was tactical; the fire would be small enough for Barry to get out before it escalated. It wouldn't be a huge fire, it would cause too much destruction, and hopefully, no-one would get hurt.

But, it would be big enough to make it a serious matter. And after Connor's recent admission that he was the arsonist, it would be serious personified. Mr Byrne would automatically pin the blame on Connor, and Barry had a good knowledge of the law - they would lock him up and throw away the key.

Revenge was his thing. It wasn't childish - no-one fucks a Barry over and gets away with it.

* * *

AN: Decided to put two chapters up because I'm going away on Thursday so won't be able to update until next week. This is really short, I know, but I wanted it to be simple. Cheers for reading!


	48. Accusations

Flames greedily swallowed the bottom of the antiquated book-shelf; fortunately, they weren't tall enough to spread too dangerously but a intrigued school cleaner noticed a strange light coming from the seemingly empty classroom. Cleaning was always going to be a dull job, so naturally, curiosity took over and the woman went over to peer surreptitiously into the door window. Her eyes widened as she saw the fire dancing it's way around the room. It was manageable, although scary, and she didn't know what to do. Instinct told her to grab the nearest fire extinguisher and when she found one, she burst into the classroom and dampened the flames until all that was left was a few charred pages of a book that had fallen off the shelf.

"What's going on?" Appearing at the doorway, Michael Byrne looked in horror at the ashes from the latest arson attack. He was on his way to the car; after the day he had had, a pint was more than in order, but the commotion had distracted him. The shaken cleaner, Betty, turned to face him, fire extinguisher still in hand. She explained the situation in detail; Michael asked her to cordon off the area and told her to go home, he could take over now. Lorraine, after giving him an expletive-laced rant on the protection of her school, said she would call the local fire brigade and ask about the necessary precautions regarding the possibility that the building could be damaged.

All that was left was to phone around the teachers and explain, one in particular stuck in Michael's mind. "Christine? Hi. No, no, nothing to worry about. I thought I'd better let you know, there's been another fire."

...

"Where the hell have you been?" Christine hissed quietly, grabbing her son as soon as she noticed him walk into the car park the next morning. He hadn't came home last night; in normal circumstances, she would be anesthetized enough to fall asleep on the sofa, unaware of his absence but the troubling phone call from Michael put the fear of God into her. "You better have a good explanation, Connor! You have no idea what's been going through my mind!"

Connor rolled his eyes; already, she had ruined his good mood. "Calm down! I stayed at Imogen's house."

"Are you sure?" Connor nodded, wondering why she was acting so strangely. While it was true that as soon as he switched his phone on that morning vibrations powered through the handset and what seemed like endless angry messages and missed calls flashed up from his mum, he had thought nothing of it. Due to the confrontation at school, he decided not to tell her where he was staying on purpose - a decision that would prove to be unwise, very soon. "Come on then, best get this over with." She carried on in a softened tone. Christine genuinely believed he was over all this, and if he wasn't, then she would help him to the best of her abilities, of course, but the thought of things getting so bad between them that he would set her classroom on fire.. it sickened her.

"Get what over with?" He asked, following his mum as she led him into Mr Byrnes office.

"Ah, Connor, take a seat." Mr Byrne said, as stony-faced as ever, gesturing to the seat directly in front of the desk. Connor sat down; his eyes widened in confusion as he saw the police officer from his confession interview, DCI Banks, in full uniform and gazing at him with fierce eyes.

"Right, is someone going to tell me what's going on?" He glanced around the room to his mum, hoping for some sort of explanation, but none came. He watched as Mr Byrne grabbed a pile of papers, and took his own seat behind the desk. "Why is she here?"

"There was a very serious incident at the school last night, that's why she's here."

"Yeah? That's nice." It came out rather cockily, but he was getting frustrated with the lack of answers. "What's that got to do with me?"

"Last night, Connor, someone deliberately started a fire in your mothers classroom. We believe it was started at around 5 o'clock, using accelerant that included toilet roll and petrol. Luckily, it was put out before much damage could be done and we are treating it as arson. Where were you at 5 o'clock yesterday evening?"

It all started to click now; they thought he did it. "I was at my girlfriends house."

"Can you prove that?" This time, it was DCI Banks voice that filled the air. It was abrupt, and unrelenting - she quite obviously suspected it was Connor.

"Ask her."

"Is this the same girlfriend that lied to the police the last time you committed arson?"

"Yeah but.." Connor began, his temper starting to flare up. "Are you for real? You seriously think I'd start another fire, after everything? No, you think I'd start one in my mum's classroom!"

Mr Byrne sensed the boys agitation, and felt quite sorry for him. There was no concrete evidence that this was actually Connor's doing, but the brutal ways of police officers were hard to change. "Calm down. Sonya, get Imogen Stewart up here for me, please. Connor, no-one is accusing you of anything, but you understand we have to suspect you."

"Why didn't you go home last night, Mr Mulgrew?" DCI Banks said, her voice a little gentler. "Your mother tells us you stayed out all night. Is that true?"

"Yeah, like I said, I was at my girlfriends house. I forgot to ring, that's all."

Michael sighed; he felt as if these questions were becoming more and more repetitive and getting them nowhere. Making good time, Imogen entered the office like a well needed injection of fresh air.

"You, er, wanted to see me, Sir?" Imogen said weakly, looking at her boyfriend rather than the headteacher.

"Yes. Can you confirm that Connor was with you last night, Imogen?"

"Yeah, he stayed over. Why?"

Banks piped up. "If you two were at your house, where were your parents?"

"My dad doesn't live with us." She replied, defensively. "But my mum was in."

"So she can vouch for Connor being there?"

Connor put his head in his hands, groaning faintly, knowing the answer was not going to help him. Imogen looked at the police officer sheepishly. "No.."

"Why not?"

"Mum didn't know he was there." Imogen felt anxious; she wasn't sure what was going on, but it looked serious. Whatever she said now could entangle him into all sorts of trouble, and on top of everything with Barry, that was the last thing they needed. "Since the fire, she hates him. We didn't want her to break us up or anything like that, so when we got back together we decided to tell her that we still hated each other. But lately, everything has been so messed up that we just wanted a bit of time alone, no chaos. We were watching a film and mum came home, I thought she was going to be out. She would only have kicked off if she knew he was there. I quite like him alive to be honest."

"It's quite clear you love him, right, Miss Stewart?"

"Of course I do. I really do. I don't really know what's going on.."

"We think Connor started another fire last night, here in Waterloo Road."

Imogen paled; it was obviously a false accusation, he had been with her all night, but the thought of Connor using fire in that way again made her feel nauseous. "No.. he was with me. He was with me!" She repeated, as if trying to convince herself. She shook her head, shaking the impossible doubt away.

The fear in Imogen's voice made Connor wince; if ever she was frightened of him, frightened of what he was capable of, he would be so ashamed. DCI Banks carried on interrogating her, refusing to let Michael intervene when things seemed to be getting a bit too tough on the seventeen year old. After all, it wasn't the most serious fire in the world, but the pyromania debacle bumped it up the police's priority list, or, Banks' list at least. Connor looked over at his mum; he had almost forgotten she was there, she had been so quiet. Their eyes met; Connor's full of desperation and Christine's full of nagging doubt. _She thinks it was me_, Connor thought bitterly. Something in him snapped, and he stood up sharply.

"This is stupid. This is really, really stupid. I've already admitted to being the school arsonist, yeah? You really think I'm stupid enough to do it again? I'll tell you what really happened yesterday. I had yet another argument with my mum, but that's not exactly unusual, if we're not arguing then we're not talking. I did feel like starting a fire.. and none of you know what that feels like, none of you. It's the worst thing in the world, made worse only by the fact that I hurt the girl I love most in the world, and I would not risk that again. I resisted, and I'm proud of myself. So, again, I did not start that fire, alright?"

Everyone in the room was affected by his heartfelt outburst; Imogen couldn't help but let the tears fall from her lashes; Christine's hand began to shake from withdrawal, having not drank for a couple of hours, and her eyes too began to fill up. Her little boy had been forced to defend himself to police officers and teachers, and the speech led her to a realisation. Of course it wasn't him. How could she ever doubt him? She knew that he wouldn't do that, he wouldn't try and hurt her. They'd had worse arguments in the past. Banks drew in a sharp breath, and Michael gazed towards the floor.

The awkward tension could have been cut with a knife, only broken by the faint sound of vibrating coming from Imogen's pocket. At first, she hesitated and then pulled her phone out, opening up the text that was from an unknown number.

IS YOUR BOYFRIEND ENJOYING MY LITTLE SURPRISE? HOPE HIS MUM WASN'T HURT. OH, WAIT. I DON'T CARE. YOU NEXT SWEETHEART.

"Imogen, that isn't exactly appropriate, is it?" Mr Byrne said.

Imogen ignored him. "Connor.." she stuttered. Finally, it was all clicking into place.

The panic on his girlfriends face worried him slightly, and he moved towards her. "What is it?"

She handed him the phone and watched as his face transformed into various different emotions - confusion, shock, anger. He stuck with the anger.

"Barry." He spat. Of course.

"He promised he'd get you back." Imogen said.

The three adults were lost. Michael took control of the situation. "What? Barry? Get you back? What are you two talking about?"

Christine found the strength to speak for the first time, standing up and saying, "Connor, that thing you said you had got yourself involved in.. it had something to do with Barry, didn't it?"

"Show her the text." Imogen instructed; Connor still had her phone.

Connor's normally noticeable cheekbones were now even more achingly prominent, his face horribly white. He was lost in thought, trying to rationalise the whole thing in his mind. Was Barry unstable enough to do this? Of course he was. This was Barry. He was unstable enough to do anything.

"Connor, show her the text!"

"No.. no way. Imogen, don't you understand? He's trying to set me up for arson, what do you think he'll do if I drop him in it? And you read it, he said you're next."

It was only when Connor stormed out of the office that Michael intervened. "Come back! We're not done!"

Imogen sped after him, the three adults close behind, watching the teenagers in fascination.

"Where are you going?"

Connor stopped abruptly, turning to face his clearly distressed girlfriend. "Where do you think? I'm not letting him do this."

"You're angry, and we all know what happens when you get angry! If you want to go and find him, fine. But don't expect me to be right behind you, Connor. This is Barry we're talking about, he's manipulative, he's a liar and he's already got you into enough trouble. Rising to the bait is only going to add fuel to the fire, no pun intended." A nervous giggle slipped out at the last part. "Please don't do anything stupid."

He ran a hand through his hair, tugging a little harder. He wasn't going to fight him. He couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag, but he had to do something. Barry had already targeted his mum, and now threatening Imogen? No, no way would he sit back and let that happen.

Connor looked at his mum. She looked the epitome of fear, but he was too determined. He looked her directly in the eye and said, "I'm sorry." then turned to Imogen and told her he had to go.

"Fine!" Imogen shouted as he walked away, an overwhelming mixture of worry, disappointment and fear plaguing her. "But if you don't tell them what Barry is doing, I will!"

* * *

sorry it took so long!

any ideas what you would like to happen next, what Connor could do? i'm not really sure.. don't want to go to out of character. let me know! :-)

cheers for reading x


	49. Disappearances and Awful Sights

Connor's POV

I didn't know where I was. I had walked for so long in a zoned-out, trance-like state that I had payed no attention whatsoever to the direction my legs were carrying me. Drinking in the fresh air in a vain attempt to clear my muddled head, I stopped at a random bus stop and sat down on the rickety bench inside. Imogen's threat was ringing prominently in my ears. I knew her too well; if she didn't tell Mr Byrne, she would tell my mum, and then my life would be completely and utterly over. The drunken version of my mum would more than likely want nothing more to do with me; she wouldn't understand that I did what I did to get away from her. She would manipulate it and turn it around, attempt to make me feel guilty by saying I worry her, that the worry makes her need to drink; no, she was just weak. And I wasn't weak. The burning desire for destruction and flames was, ironically, sickeningly powerful, the harshest it had been in a long time, but I would not succumb to it.

As I was fighting to dampen the thoughts of fire with hypothetical water, a bus pulled up. A couple of elderly old ladies ambled of, helping each down the steps. The sight made me think; there was nothing for me left. I might as well leave, run away from my problems as I was so talented at doing. I jumped on the bus, just scraping together the fare, and sat at the back. Where it was taking me, I didn't know, but if it was as far away from Waterloo Road as possible, then I would be content.

...

Imogen knocked nervously on the door. She had adamantly refused to answer any question that was thrown at her about this whole situation, despite threatening to. It would only put him in danger, she knew that, but she also knew that something had to be done. It was spiralling out of control, _he _was spiralling out of control, and Imogen wasn't about to sit back and let him ruin his life. Turning it over and over in her mind all day, it finally hit her, the one person she could tell, the one person who would do anything to protect Connor. "Hi." She mumbled, when the english teacher answered.

"He's not back." Christine said simply, before asking the question that had been on her lips for hours. "Do you think he's okay?"

"That's sort of what I'm here about. I don't know where he is, or what he's doing but I really think you need to know what's going on. I couldn't say anything in school because it would have got him in too much trouble, but you'll do anything to help him, right?"

Christine ushered her inside and made two cups of tea, adding a nip of vodka to her own to calm her nerves. They sat in nervous silence for a couple of minutes, until the tension became unbearable. "What stupid thing has he done now, then?"

"He's going to hate me for this." Imogen took a deep breath, preparing to completely betray her boyfriend. "It started a couple of weeks ago.. he didn't exactly go into detail but I know it was something to do with you, an argument or something.. anyway, he was angry. I'd been arguing with my mum too. It was after she kicked me out because of Connor.. we, sort of, developed this idea that we should just leave. It was all a joke at first, but it got more and more serious as time went on.. we both know how stupid it was to even think about it, but we were in too deep.." She felt as though she were rambling now, but talking about it sent stabs of fear through her; wherever he was, if he was with Barry, then he definitely wasn't safe.

It took Christine a while to process the little information Imogen had given her. "He wanted to leave.. because of me?"

"I'm sorry, you should've heard that part from him."

"No, no, it's fine. I need to hear the whole story. It still doesn't make sense, though. Why would Barry Barry, of all people, want to set Connor up?"

"Well, erm, we decided we were serious about this whole running away thing. Ugh, it makes us sound like immature kids, but it sounded great at the time. We realised we needed money, so we asked Dynasty and she asked Barry whether he knew anything we could do to get some. I suppose we were pretty naive to think anything involving that creep would be _normal, _or easy, but once Connor was involved, well, he was involved." Imogen reached for her phone, checking it for any signs of a text, a missed call, anything that would signify Connor's safety.

Christine sighed. "Dare I ask what this money-making scheme was?"

Imogen felt her eyelashes dampen with formulating tears; they began to roll down her cheeks as she relayed the previous couple of weeks. She explained all about the drug deals, the threats from Barry, the way that Connor seemed to become more and more desperate to leave as time went on. She didn't know whether to let on that she knew about Christine's alcoholism, for fear of offending her or getting Connor into trouble. "He said he couldn't live with you anymore. He didn't say why-"

"Don't." The sickened teacher said. The thought of him doing that, putting himself in those situations, because of her.. "Don't pretend you don't know why he hates me."

"Yeah, Connor told me." She smiled sheepishly. "But you're wrong, you know."

"About what?"

"Connor doesn't hate you. He hates the drinking.. and I know this really isn't my place, so tell me to shut up if you want, but right now, he could be in so much trouble. He really needs you to be there for him."

"We need to find him, don't we?"

...

Connor was on his way home. He stayed on that bus for what felt like hours, staring out of the window distantly, until the bus driver got up and told him to get off, or pay again. During the journey, he'd had plenty of time to plan. He couldn't be bothered with this anymore. Everything was monotonous and painful; the endless urges, the alcoholic mother, the dull threats from a sociopath, and the girlfriend he kept letting down. It was the last one that hurt him the most. Imogen, the feisty girl who would do anything for anyone but refused to let anyone walk all over her; she deserved someone so much better than him. He stopped at the shop on the way back; the calm before the storm. He bought what he needed, stuffed it into his bag and made his way home.

"Mum?" He called when he entered. No response.. just what he wanted.

He went up to his bedroom. This was one of the biggest decisions of his life; he had no second thoughts.

...

Christine's POV.

"Connor, are you in?" I shouted, shaking off my coat and hanging it over the bannister. Imogen and I had been driving around town aimlessly, looking everywhere we could possibly think of; we checked pubs, restaurants, bus stations, even libraries, but it was no use. Imogen called round all their friends, but it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. Eventually, we gave up. I dropped the frightened young girl off home, and tried to convince myself that everything was okay, that he would be at home now, feeling sorry for himself. "Connor?" I repeated. It was getting late now, and I was almost tempted to call the police.. almost. A piercing smash came from upstairs, and I moved as fast as I moved in my life. Normally, if his bedroom door was shut tight, I wouldn't enter without knocking but I was too intrigued by that noise. If he was back, I needed to speak to him as soon as possible. There were things that needed to be sorted out.

The source of the smash was a bottle of vodka, which was now in a million shards on Connor's floor, although there was no liquid. He must have drank it, I thought. It wasn't a big deal. He was a teenager, after all, and I couldn't really talk without being labelled a hypocrite. To be honest, I was lucky that he didn't fit the typical teenager stereotype. I rolled my eyes, and went to leave.. when I saw something that would never leave me.

"Hello.. ambulance, please. I-I think my son has taken an overdose."

* * *

i hope this is ok!

thanks for reading x


	50. Secrets Unravelling

Being back in a hospital gave Christine a sickening sense of déjà vu; the last time she was here, her son was fighting for his life after starting a fire, unable to cope with her alcoholism any longer. The current situation wasn't dissimilar, only this time his hospitalisation was no accident, Connor had made an informed decision to end his own life. She had sat with him until the ambulance arrived, tears spilling from her eyes, begging him to hold on. The emergency services were no use over the phone; they told her to put him in the recovery position and wait. Wait for what? Wait for her only child to die? It was all she could do to keep herself from finding a way to make him sick; to flush the pills out of him, but the voice at the end of the line told her that in an unconscious state, it could choke him. The ambulance couldn't have taken longer than ten minutes, but to Christine, every minute felt like another minute of Connor's life slipping away.

Doctors wheeled him away to pump his stomach, and once again, Christine found herself alone, waiting for news regarding her son; it made it worse that the blame laid solely at her feet. If only she hadn't doubted him, if only she had realised how desperate he was becoming. She had thought no more about what Imogen had told her. She couldn't, not until he came around. There were questions to be answered, and if she thought any more about it she would drive herself mad. A knock at the door brought her back to reality; expecting a doctor with information, it came as a shock when Michael Byrne appeared in the doorway. Christine had called him, but only to explain that she probably wouldn't be in work in the morning.

"Michael?" She said weakly. "What are you doing here?"

"I thought you might need a bit of company." Michael smiled, holding up two coffees. "You must be going out of your mind. Have you had any news?"

Christine shook her head, accepting the warm drink gratefully. It was the first time in a long while that getting her fix of alcohol had not been at the forefront of her mind. If she was feeling any sort of withdrawal, she was doing a great job of ignoring it. "It's my fault."

"No, it's not." Michael sat down next to her, placing a reassuring hand on top of hers. "The worst thing you can do is blame yourself."

"It is. It's my fault, all of it. I'm the reason he starts fires, and I'm the reason, or one of the reasons, that he's done this." It was all spilling out and Christine felt she couldn't stop it. Her biggest secret was unravelling, and she didn't once think of the consequences. Her face was stained with tears but she didn't bother wiping them away, they were just replaced. "I'll never forgive myself if he dies, Michael.

"I don't understand.. Christine, you're not making any sense."

"You'll have to sack me."

Michael saw the fear sparkling in her eyes; his suspicions rising, he said, "Then tell me as a friend. We're close, right? I'm here to listen, if nothing else. We can deal with school later."

It was almost as if withholding the secret for so long had made it impossible for her to find the words. "I have.. a drink problem. I'm an alcoholic, and I have been for almost seventeen years." Once she'd started, it was hard to stop. Maybe it was the realisation that this was actually affecting people other than her, or maybe it was Michael's endearing, caring nature. Whatever it was, the words were flowing and it was a weight of her shoulders. "I stopped before the fire, you know the one that scarred Imogen? I'd been sober for a good few months, then my ex-husband decided to pay a visit."

"Connor's dad?" Michael asked; this admission didn't come as much of a shock to him. Really, he should have suspected some kind of dependency on alcohol ever since they started going out together. A bottle of wine hardly touched the sides sometimes, but it seemed illogical to give it another thought.

"Joe isn't Connor's father." She couldn't believe she was finally telling someone. It was almost therapeutic. She took a deep breath, bracing herself for the next part; the worst part. It came out in no more than a strangled whisper. "I was raped."

Michael was speechless. He could do no more than put an arm around her and pull her close; having never been any good at emotion, he hoped his mere embrace would suffice as comfort instead of words. After a while, Christine pulled away.

"Do you understand now? Do you understand why this is my fault? I drove him to this. What kind of mother neglects her own son so much that he tries topping himself?"

"Christine.." Michael started, interrupted by the sound of a doctor entering the room.

"Mrs Mulgrew? Hello, I'm Doctor Choudry and I'm overseeing your sons care. He was brought in at the right time, I can tell you, so we were able to get the pills out of his system before they were able to do any lasting damage. We pumped his stomach, and he seems to be completely fine, although like all attempted suicide cases we will be keeping him in overnight. You can go through and see him if you like, but be warned, he'll be quite groggy, and he's refusing to speak to any of us. Maybe he'll listen to his mum, eh?" The doctor joked, obviously oblivious to their tumultuous relationship.

...

Staring angrily into space, Connor hardly noticed his mother entering the generic hospital room. Surviving wasn't part of his plan; this wasn't about attention, it wasn't a cry for help, it was him giving up. The vicious burning in his throat from having been forced to throw up again and again was only another reminder that he was a failure; he couldn't even take his own life properly. Intense waves of guilt arrived almost as soon as he thought about Imogen, but they were gone almost as soon as they came.

Connor looked eerily pale, his vivid blue eyes the only colour left on his face, and Christine was at a loss. What do you say to your seventeen year old son who has just tried to kill himself? If that wasn't hard enough to decide, she couldn't work out how she felt. Was she angry at him? Was she just relieved that he was alive? It was confusing, and the prolonged silence wasn't helping to rectify anything. She sat on the chair next to the bed, deciding that if ever the time was right for her to be a proper mother and take control, it was now. "Ignoring me won't make me go away, you know."

Connor simply laid down, and pulled the covers over his head.

Despite everything, Christine had to smile. "You wouldn't think you were seventeen. You act more like a seven year old."

"Go away." A quiet voice came from under the cover.

"No chance." Her voice softened as she finally let some of the emotion of the last couple of hours show. "Oh come on, Connor, talk to me. We can't ignore the fact that you tried to kill yourself!" Silence. "Fine, have it your way.. but I'm not leaving until you grow up a bit." The words were harsh, but she felt it was necessary to get through to him. He'd obviously inherited her stubborn nature. Silence hung in the air like an unwanted visitor for a few more minutes. Then, just faintly, the sound of muffled sobbing could be heard. It was getting beyond a joke now, for Christine anyway, and she couldn't sit and listen to him cry. Pulling the cover away from his face, her heart broke. He sat up, reluctantly.

"I think we need a little chat, don't you?"

"There's nothing to say." Connor noticed something strange. "Why are you shaking?"

Christine pulled her sleeve over her hand, but it was too late. "It's nothing."

"You haven't had a drink. Why haven't you had a drink?"

"Well, I've been a bit preoccupied! I found my son on the brink of death in his bedroom. There isn't really much time for anything else."

He cast her a less than nice look, and bitterly said, "Alcoholics make time. I'm surprised you weren't down the offy while you waited for the ambulance." He didn't know why he was being so horrible, but it was helping to vent the sheer amounts of anger still inside him. He had to take it out on someone, or he would implode.

"Yes, well, things are going to change."

"I'll believe it when I see it."

"God, don't hold back on the support, will you?"

After a tense pause, Connor began to feel bad for being so awful to her. She was, after all, trying. "I'm sorry."

"It's ok, you've got a lot on your mind. But, Connor.. did you do this because of me?" It was the question taking priority on her increasingly long list. She was glad he was in this kind of mood, because it meant he wouldn't lie. He wouldn't hold back on the bluntness.

"Mum?"

"Yeah?"

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course."

"Why did you.. have me?"

Christine's eyebrows gently crinkled in confusion. She wasn't expecting that. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, why did you keep me? It can't have been nice finding out you were pregnant after.. what happened, so why would you keep me? You could've just got rid of it and then drank your life away alone, because that's what you wanted really, isn't it? I've always just been a burden to you.. always getting on at you to stop, always causing trouble. It's obvious you never wanted a kid, or you wouldn't have treated me like something that you were just like, lumbered with." It might have seemed like an odd question to ask your own mother, but it had been playing on Connor's mind ever since he found out about the rape.

"Don't be so stupid, son." She said bluntly, in typical Christine fashion. "You were never something I was just _lumbered_ with, and if you ever felt like that then I am so sorry, from the bottom of my heart. If I ever gave you that impression, it was because I'm a terrible mother, it's nothing to do with you. It was a shock when I found out I was pregnant but once I'd thought about it, it made sense to go through with it. All I knew was that I had a little person growing inside of me, a little_ innocent_ person. All I did was turn the worst part of my life into the best."

"Don't be so soppy." Connor said, the smallest hint of a smile playing on his lips.

"You asked." She smiled back. It was almost progress; maybe he would open up to her now. "My turn."

Connor sighed. "Can we just not talk about it yet? I don't even know what Imogen has told you."

"Mmm, I think we'll wait until you've recovered until we talk about that one. I don't know though, having doctors nearby might be for the best. They can stop me from murdering you." She joked, a tinge of sternness twisted into her voice so that he knew she really was a little angry with him.

"She told you then? Wow, what a loyal girlfriend I have." He muttered, sarcasm dripping off his tongue.

"Don't be blaming Imogen. Do you even know how frightened she was? She was imagining you lying in a ditch somewhere, mangled up by Barry and his thugs. She came to the house and explained everything, so I'm the only one who knows, and she did that to protect you! You don't know how lucky you are, having a girlfriend who cares about you as much as Imogen does."

Before Connor could say anything else, the door swung open, forcefully clashing with the wall. Looking absolutely incensed, Imogen barged her way in, ignoring the protests from the doctors.


	51. You're Right, She Does Deserve Better

Imogen could not understand this, she couldn't understand it at all. Connor wouldn't try to kill himself, would he? The shaken words of his mother when she called her were a catalyst for the conflicting emotions of the past couple of days to explode. It wasn't that she was angry as such, it was more an odd sense of feeling let down, abandoned. And if that was selfish, then she would gladly accept that label. Nothing was going to stop her from getting to that hospital, though; she snuck out and jumped on the next bus, tears sliding carelessly down her cheeks all the way. The doctors fussed around, threatening to escort her from the premises, so she feigned calm. It was only when they left that she let rip.

"How could you?" She shouted, just low enough so that it wouldn't attract anyone's attention. "No, I've got a better question. _Why_ would you?"

Connor was surprised at her outburst, but it was as if couldn't sum up the effort to respond. The slither of guilt he had felt when thinking of Imogen hurting over his death, attempted death now, was gone; everything was gone. He cared about nothing more than going home, and going to sleep. Unconsciousness is uncomplicated. "Go away."

"Do you know what, Connor? We could have got through all this stuff, nothing that could ever happen to us is so bad you have to do something like this. What made me angry is that Barry threatened me, he threatened your _mum, _and you decided to take the cowards way out.. I'm not scared of him, I could have dealt with him but what if this had worked? What if you died? Did you even think about that? Barry would have won, that's what would have happened." In her head, Imogen had practised what she was going to say over and over but it ended up spilling out of her mouth hysterically.

A blank expression etched on his face, the words had no effect over Connor. Imogen's speech was heartfelt, and in normal circumstances, he would have done everything in his power to calm her down and apologise profusely. But these were no normal circumstances; it scared him just how emotionless he felt. If only he could get her to leave, he could explain everything later when he had his life back on track. "Imogen, just go home. I can ask the doctors.."

Never one to allow people to walk all over her, not even the boyfriend who she knew was extremely vulnerable, Imogen blinked away the tears that began to form in the corners of her eyes and said, "Fine, if that's what you want, but if I go now, I'm not coming back. We're over."

...

The emptiness of the house was intensified by the lack of alcohol flowing comfortingly through Christine's veins. It wasn't completely empty; Connor was upstairs, having been discharged from the hospital after a mental health assessment and an overnight stay. He hadn't uttered a single syllable since the brief altercation with Imogen, and his lack of emotion or awareness frightened Christine. She couldn't exactly watch over him 24/7, however much she wanted to. To add to her worries, Michael hadn't even called, so she was unsure whether she even had a job to go back to. Sighing despondently, she made her way upstairs, armed with a sandwich and a cup of tea. She knocked on the door, getting the response she fully expected: none.

Christine entered anyway. "I know you're not asleep."

"How did you know that?" Connor mumbled, rubbing his eyes tiredly and adjusting himself so he was sat upright, his knees pulled up to his chest.

"You used to do that when you were little, pretend you were asleep when I came in. I always used to find you in the morning, fast asleep with a book over your face." She smiled fondly at the memory as a sharp pain shot through her head. "How you feeling?"

This was the part Connor had been dreading ever since he woke up in hospital. "Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Treat me differently. You don't have to treat me like I'm broken and keep checking up on me. I'm not going to do it again."

"You can promise me that, can you?" She asked. All she got was a slight nod, which didn't exactly put her mind at rest. Recently, Christine had found herself wishing she could turn the clock back. Turn it back and be a good mother, protect her kid instead of putting him in this position. His developing pyromania was her fault, and as every minute passed she was blaming herself for this, too. "Can we have that chat now, then?"

"Do I have a choice?"

Christine smiled, sitting on the edge of his bed. "Not really. I won't push you if you don't want to, though. I just want to understand why you thought you had to do this.. and as for the drugs thing, well, I haven't quite worked out how I feel about that yet. Why would you put yourself in that position, don't you know how dangerous that could have been?"

"I thought you weren't going to push me." Connor looked away ashamedly. He was starting to realise just how idiotic it was to get involved with someone like Barry, no matter how desperate he was. "It was just a stupid idea that me and Imogen had. By the time we realised it was pointless, I was in over my head. What did you expect? For me to come and talk to you?" He said, noticing the look on her face. "As if."

"You should've done, I could've helped you. Is that why you were so determined to confess to the police? Did he find out it was you?"

"Yeah, Dynasty told him. He thought he could blackmail me into working for him with it, so I decided to confess myself and save him the bother. And I know you think it was me, but Barry started that fire in your classroom. I might be an idiot but I'm not sick."

"I believe you. There might have been a moment where I doubted you, but I know you wouldn't do that. But what I don't get is why you didn't do that yesterday. Why not just start a fire, if that what makes you feel better?" It wasn't that she was trying to encourage arson, it just seemed more appealing to her that he would do that rather than make an attempt on his own life.

"I don't.. I can't do that anymore. I've hurt too many people."

"Why wouldn't you speak to Imogen at the hospital?"

The name itself made Connor's heart hurt. He had tried to push it to the back of his mind, but it wouldn't work. He loved her, he would always love her, and he could have hurt her, yet again. "Because I am an idiot. Do I need to keep repeating that for you? I am an idiot, and I mess everything up. It doesn't matter anyway, she deserves better than me. I'm still annoyed that she told you, though."

Christine sighed; she couldn't sit back and let him push everyone away. It was time she did something about it. "You're right. She deserves better."

"What?" Connor said, anger levels starting to rise. How could she say that?

"She deserves better than someone who thinks he can toss her aside when things get tough. We might not have always seen eye to eye, but I can see now that all Imogen wants to do is be there for you. If you keep taking her for granted, she will get sick of it, and one day she won't be so forgiving." Christine knew reverse psychology was the way to deal with this. Connor would have expected her to be on his side, and he would hate that she wasn't, and realise she was right. She stood up and walked towards the door. "You've been through a lot lately, I understand that, but please do me a favour, son, grow up a little bit. If you don't you'll only end up losing her. Oh, and another thing." She pointed to the sandwich on his bedside table. "You need to eat."


	52. Connor Does Romance

Crisp leaves sprinkled with raindrops hung from the vast trees, trees that had stood there for so many years, that held so many secrets and had seen so many things. The wind was sharp, cutting icily into faces but the purple-tinged, golden glow of the sun falling down shrouded the area in a comforting warmth; just the atmosphere essential for Connor's plan. For once, he decided his mum was right. If he wasn't careful, he could lose Imogen forever and after already experiencing life without her for a little while, living without her was not an option. Despite harbouring a deep sadness that was weighing him down with every step, Connor dragged himself out of bed, made himself look presentable and texted Imogen, asking her to meet him in their usual place in half an hour. There was no reply, so all he could do was wait, and hope.

"What do you want, Conn-" Imogen's voice trailed off as she noticed the complete transformation of their idyllic forest hideout. Four lit candles were had been tentatively placed symmetrically along the bench; in the middle, pebbles had been arranged to spell out five words. I'm sorry. I love you. It might not have been much, but the single gesture was breathtaking; Imogen couldn't tear her eyes away.

"It's a bit cheesy but I wanted to show you.. I wanted to show you how sorry I am instead of just saying it. If you want to turn around and walk away, I won't blame you, you deserve better than me.. but I love you, Imogen, I really, really love you." His throat still sore from the hospital, Connor's words came out a little louder than a whisper, but the meaning was there. He had put this together in a matter of minutes, racking his brains for an idea as his mother's words sank in. How could she, of all people, make him see sense?

Imogen, rendered utterly speechless, wandered closer to him. She caught his glance, and they stood in silence for a couple of seconds. Overcome with emotion, Imogen spontaneously wrapped her arms around Connor's neck and pulled him into a passionate kiss; they stayed in the embrace for a while. When they broke apart, Imogen smiled. "I love you, too. But candles.. with _fire?_"

"Shut up." He laughed, pleased it had gone the right way. "I didn't have much time, it was the most romantic thing I could think of!"

"Well, it's beautiful."

Connor blew two of the candles out, and moved the others as far away from anything that had the potential to spark a full-blown fire; even now, even with Imogen here, the temptation was too much. The couple perched on the floor, backs rested against the bench. "I'm sorry. I was awful to you at the hospital."

"Don't worry about it." Imogen said, wondering idly if this was the time to bring up the whole attempted suicide thing. She didn't want to ruin this particular moment, it was special. "I was a bit out of order as well, I guess. You must have had your reasons. I just panicked. The thought of living without you.."

"I'm sorry." He repeated. "Do you ever say a word so much it stops sounding right?"

"Shows our relationship, doesn't it? We're just constantly apologising to each other."

"Yeah. I'd say let's have another _normal_ night but the last time we did that, a mentalist tried to frame me for arson."

Linking their fingers together, Imogen rested her head against his chest. "What are they going to do about that? Will they get Barry for it?"

"There's no evidence except that text. Even then, he probably dumped the phone or something." Connor said bitterly; he didn't know when his mum would let him go back to school. He felt fine physically; proving his mental stability to her was going to be more of a challenge. "Anyway, we've got forever to talk about that stuff. What can we talk about that won't lead to us arguing?"

"Oh.. I need to tell you something."

"Yeah?"

"Today at school, I was angry and upset and I might have, accidentally, told Kevin and Dynasty where you were. BUT Dyn promised not to tell Barry!" Almost as soon as the words slipped out of her mouth today, Imogen felt like the worst human being on the planet. They hadn't officially split; what type of girlfriend betrays her suicidal boyfriends privacy like that? She wasn't going to tell Connor, afraid of his fractured mood swings, but his efforts had intensified the guilt. If they were going to work at their relationship succeeding, there couldn't be anymore secrets.

Connor squirmed. He wasn't planning on letting people know. "What did they say?"

"They were shocked. Kev said he's gutted he didn't realise how you felt and it took a while to calm Dynasty down. She said she was going to kill Barry, blah, blah, blah. I practically begged her not to say anything to him. I'm pretty sure she won't. And they won't tell anyone else, either."

"I suppose they are our best mates. I just don't want people treating me differently. What I did, well, it's embarrassing."

Imogen sat up. She kissed him softly, her lips like rose petals upon his. "You've got nothing to be ashamed of, Connor. Just promise me something?"

"What?"

"Please don't do it again. Even if you think about it, talk to me or talk to your mum. Talk to a tree, I don't care just please don't do something like that again."

Connor smiled warmly. It was the first time in what felt like an age that his smile didn't feel forced. The realisation hitting Connor was like clouds evaporating, making way for the sun to shine through; no matter what happened, Imogen loved him and he was an idiot not to see that. "I won't, I promise. I've got you haven't I?"

She grinned. "So come on then, why did you change your mind? About not wanting to see me."

"My mum, of all people. I know!" Amused at Imogen's mildly shocked face, he carried on. "She said some things. It made me realise that if I wasn't careful, I'd lose you for good."

"You'll never lose me. That's _my_ promise."

* * *

hello so erm just a short one because i didn't actually intend to split them up in the last chapter, it sort of just happened.

just wanted to say that i might not be updating often over the next couple of weeks. my a level exams start in a matter of weeks (so scary man) so i'm up to my eyeballs in revision and stuff!

thanks for reading as always. oh and this week i hit 100 reviews and 10,000 views, do you know how mental that is! you're all amazing.


	53. Dynasty Has Had Enough

Breath seemed to be thinning way too quickly and his throat seemed to be tightening, emanating burning pain. This nightmare wasn't a conventional nightmare - there was nothing to see, nothing but blackness but it had an intense grip, refusing to let go. It was frustrating; Connor's eye flashed open, and he sat upright in bed, drinking in the refreshing supply of air. He had thought he was okay. Imogen had once again helped him to sort his life out like a whirlwind of loveliness, and the rest of the night was spent happily; no-one could spoil it. The dream, though, had left him shaken. The draining oxygen represented in his unconsciousness was reminiscent of what little he could remember from the night of his attempted suicide. Thinking about it made him recoil. It was a stupid idea, he felt, an embarrassing idea. But regretting his actions didn't stop Connor from remembering; as the poisonous mixture of painkillers and alcohol exploded in his stomach, the air disappeared, bit by bit.

Connor let the hot water burn away the lingering thoughts of the strange dream. He was cheered up by remembering the huge smile that appeared on Imogen's face when she saw his apology; the cheer soon distinguished when he remembered that she told Kevin and Dynasty, who he would have to see at school today. Sighing, he pulled on his clothes half-heartedly and went downstairs.

Christine stood at the kitchen counter, making coffee. After an elongated silence, she turned to face him, glaring. "Where did you go last night?"

"I went to see Imogen." He asked, throwing himself onto one of the uncomfortable chairs at the table. "Why?"

"You could have told me. I went upstairs and you weren't there.. well, you can imagine what went through my head."

Connor groaned. "I told you not to treat me any differently. I'm going back to school today."

"Are you sure that's wise?"

"Better than being here by myself. Oh, and please don't tell any of the teachers, or I'll never forgive you. I don't need people thinking I'm mental."

"Michael knows, he came to the hospital. And it's protocol anyway, you'll be put on a list of kids to look out for. I don't really get a say in it." Christine explained, burning her lips slightly while sipping coffee. She knew that Connor was far from fixed, but him going back to school did seem like a good option. Michael had been in touch and told her that if she promised there would be no more alcohol involved in anything to do with school, he wouldn't take it any further and she could keep her job. Unprofessional, maybe, but being at school was the perfect setup to keep an eye on her troubled son.

"But you're a teacher! You can take me off it!"

"Stop whining, you sound like a child! The teachers being aware of it won't affect you, they won't treat you any differently. They'll just know to be worried if you decide to nick off, which you won't," she said, with a stern smile. "More to the point, though, what are you going to do about Barry?"

Connor shrugged; it was the one question that needed answering, and the answer seemed to be completely out of reach. He wanted nothing more than to find concrete proof that the latest arson attack at the school was Barry, but all he had was one measly text. As long as Barry left him and Imogen alone and no-one tried to blame Connor for the fire, things would slowly get back to normal. Wouldn't they?

...

Idly wondering where Imogen was, Connor was quickly regretting offering to help carry some books in for his mum. His arms ached, full of dog-eared copies of Wuthering Heights, and he wanted nothing more to stuff his hands in his pockets, put his head down and hope to distinguish the thoughts of anxiety creeping into his mind. No-one even knew what had happened, save from a few of his friends and some teachers. Nevertheless, Connor felt as if eyes were burning into him as he walked to Christine's classroom. He was so lost in thought that he was almost knocked of his feet as a pair of arms ended up around his neck.

"I could kill you!" The version of the deliciously thick scouse accent that Connor didn't mind hearing drawled; Dynasty pulled away from him and looked at him seriously. "God, you might have a pretty face, Connor, but you definitely don't have the brains to match! Doing something like that because of my brother?"

"It wasn't just that-"

"I was raging when Imogen told me! Don't worry about Baz, though, he won't bother you again."

Connor paled, dumping the books on one of the desks in the classroom before saying, "You didn't tell him, did you?"

"No but I know he set that fire. I told him if he ever threatened you again I'd tell me ma that he's drug dealing again. That soon shut him up." They walked further down the corridor, aiming for the library. "It's hard though, 'cause he's still my brother and no matter what he does I still have to love him. Don't ever do anything like that ever again, alright?"

Connor laughed. "Have you heard yourself? You hated me not long ago. I'm fine, I don't need you to stick up for me. I do want to prove that he started that fire, though."

"If they found out it was him, would they send him to prison?" Dynasty asked, her mind whirring. She wanted to help, but family loyalty was definitely an issue.

"They didn't send me and I started loads more, and I injured someone. I don't know. Why?"

"I think I've got an idea."

...

"Robbie!" Dynasty shouted, quickening her walk to catch up with her newly renamed little brother. It was strange, but she could deal with it and no doubt it would get easier once Barry decided to stop being such a prat and accept it. "What's up?"

Locks of greasy hair fell from behind his ear; Robbie pushed it away, revealing tear tracks down his cheeks. "It's nothing."

"Has someone been giving you grief?"

He nodded, shyly. "Three guesses."

"Barry?"

"Why can't he accept me, Dyn? You have! And mum's even starting to come round. I know it must be weird for you but how do you think I feel? I'm the one going through it! I haven't changed, I'm still me.. and I've always been Robbie, you just didn't know it."

Dynasty smiled comfortingly. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Tell me what Barry said."

"People finally started calling me Robbie.. I finally feel like _someone_. Then Rhiannon was being stupid and I thought Barry was sticking up for me. Turns out, he was just threatening them, telling them my name is Kacey. I'm sick of him, Dynasty. You keep saying he'll come round, but when? I'm going to need you all on side when I explain it all to Dad.."

"Don't worry. I'm going to sort this, once and for all. We can't let him just throw his weight around."

...

"Right.. you better not let me down.. alright, mate. I'll see you in a bit."

"Making another dodgy deal?" Dynasty shot, having overheard bits of her brothers phone conversation. The conversation with Connor left her with nagging doubts; surely she couldn't go against her big brother. Family ties are more important than friendship, she kept telling herself as she wrestled with her conscience. The conversation with Robbie, however, made her furious. It had gone on for far too long now, this power complex. It began innocently, Dynasty understood that he was doing these things to provide for his family, but it was getting dangerous and soon it would undoubtedly put Barry in danger, and that was the last thing she wanted, or needed.

"What do you want, Dynasty? I'm busy." Barry snapped.

"I just wanted to say sorry, for threatening to tell mum about the thing you got Connor involved in."

"Oh, will you give it a rest? Do you fancy him or something? You're always going on about him."

"No!" She said quickly; this wasn't getting her anywhere. "He's a mate, that's all. You did start that fire though, didn't you? To try and set him up?"

Barry blinked, searching her face, deciding what to say as if talking to an undercover police officer. "Why?"

"I just wanna know.. if you didn't, I'll go put him straight. I'm not having him badmouthing my brother!"

"Ah, don't bother. I started it, so what? He's got no proof, except for a text I sent Imogen and I dumped the phone anyway. Don't look at me like that! He messed me about, he deserved it."

"What if Mrs Mulgrew had been in there?"

"Then she would have got hurt, and it would have made him look like even more of a psycho." It was quite chilling the way Barry said these things so plainly, like it was obvious. "Now leave me alone, I've got stuff to sort out." With that, he swaggered off with the air of someone who felt himself to be incredibly important.

Dynasty scowled as she watched. Carefully, she took out an object from the sleeve of her leather jacket and smirked; a dictaphone.

* * *

hey sorry about the wait.

i hope i handled the robbie thing okay! i like how they're handling it on the show, but i wasn't sure if i was writing it properly.

hope you like it! thanks for reading. x


	54. Barry Turns On Imogen

Imogen had been walking for so long she could began to feel the heaviness of her Doc Martens weighing down on her feet. School wasn't that far a walk from the dentist driving, but after an animated argument with Sally, the last thing she wanted to do was to be stuck in a car with her. She was constantly biting her tongue, trying to refrain herself from spilling out the secret; she was back with Connor and would be for the foreseeable future. As long as it was a secret, though, life would be simpler and that was all Imogen wanted, a simple life to enjoy with her boyfriend.

A nauseating voice drifted into earshot. "Alright, babe?"

"What do you want?" Imogen snapped, angrily ripping out her headphones.

Barry smiled, chilling and endearing at the same time. "I just thought we could have a little chat, is all."

"I'm on my way to school, where you should be actually. Oh no, wait, you don't go to school, you just set them on fire."

"I could say the same about that boyfriend of yours."

Jumping on the defensive, Imogen fumed, "He didn't do it out of malice, though, that's the difference between you and Connor. Everything he does, he does it with a good intention in mind. You, you just want to hurt people. You're sick, and frankly, I don't want to waste my breath on you."

Barry chuckled as she began to walk away, grabbing her wrist and pulling her around the corner into an alleyway. He pushed her up against the wall and whispered into her ear. "Remember my party? You believed me about Connor, what does that say about you? You like me, Imogen, I know you do. Just admit it, you're attracted to me. Go on, I won't tell, your secrets safe with me."

"Get off me." She said confidently, but monosyllabically. Fear began to mount, but Imogen refused to show it. Being in such close proximity to this thug was uncomfortably awful but he was pretty strong, and she couldn't get free. "Get off me now, or I'll scream."

"There's no-one around, babe, no-one would hear you if you screamed." His fingers skimmed her half-covered scar. "How could you forgive him after that?"

"Connor is ten times the man you are or will ever be. I won't ask again, Barry, get off me."

"I don't mind it." Barry carried on, ignoring her latest plea. "I still would."

"You make me sick. I wouldn't go anywhere near you." Barry simply smirked, and Imogen found herself pinned up against the wall, the surface scratching her arms uncomfortably. It was terrifying, and Imogen couldn't help it, she let tears spill over her eyes. No amount of protesting did she find herself free of Barry's clutch.

"You don't have a choice, I'm afraid."

...

"You all know the coursework question, you should all be finished or close to finishing. The deadline is next week, no more extensions I'm afraid. That means some of you really need to get your act together. If you're finished, bring it to me and I'll check it over and tell you how to get more marks, if not, you've got half an hour until the end of the lesson, get on with it." Mrs Mulgrew explained, discreetly keeping her eye on her son. It was scary how withdrawn he looked, and she wouldn't be surprised if it was accentuated by the absence of Imogen; that girl was like an injection of happiness to him sometimes.

The class did as she said, letting out groans of misery as they went. In the corner, Kevin sat with Connor while Dynasty sat in front of them.

"Where's Imogen?" Dynasty asked curiously. She still hadn't decided what to do with the information on the dictaphone.

"She said she was coming to school after the dentist." Connor mumbled, tiredly.

"She probably just had to have a filling or something and wanted to go home. Bet you're missing her, mate, what's the longest you've been apart? Five minutes?" Kevin joked, glancing quickly to Dynasty; for some reason, he wanted her to laugh at his jokes.

"Mmm."

"Kevin, what do you write in the last paragraph? I commented on the relationship between Boo and Scout-" Dynasty said.

"Here, give me your sheet, I'll read it. It's probably not right."

"You what?"

"Well, you're not as good as you think you are, Dynasty. You might have got an A in Budgen's but literature is harder." Kevin was explaining, completely unaware of how offending he was being.

"You think you're so smart, don't you?"

"Well, yeah.. a bit."

Connor had learned to tune out their married couple bickering a long time ago, and besides, he had more important things to worry about. In normal circumstances, Imogen not being at school wouldn't have worried him, but with everything that had happened lately, everything was over thought. Sighing, he internally wondered when his wish for a simple life would finally be granted. Surely, he deserved it.

...

Imogen remembered throwing up, and not much else. The rest of her journey was spent in a disbelieving, dazed state, and somehow she ended up sat on the wall outside Connor's house. She couldn't face school, and he would be home in a couple of hours. Until then, she would spend the rest of the time trying not to be sick, trying to push everything to the back of her mind. It hadn't happened, it _couldn't _of happened.

Imogen's POV.

I didn't even notice the car pull up outside the Mulgrew's house. I didn't even know why I was here. On top of everything he was dealing with, Connor didn't need my problems piled on top. My head was rested awkwardly against the taller part of the wall, and my each blink felt like razor blades. I'd been crying that much, my eyes were bright red.

"Imogen?" Mrs Mulgrew asked, looking at me with wide eyes. I must have looked a state.

I stood up uneasily, one hand on the wall to steady myself. I mustered up the little energy I had left and mumbled, "Where's Connor?"

"He's gone to the school house with Kevin, I think.. Imogen, are you okay? Has something happened?"

It's so true - you can hide any amount of devastation until someone utters those three little words: are you okay. The tears once again flooded from my eyes, and I let myself fall to the ground, hiding my face in my hands. I was lost. I didn't want to talk about it. I just wanted to cry.

"Imogen.." Mrs Mulgrew came over, crouching down beside me. "What is it? You can tell me."

"I c-can't.. I don't.. just get it out of my brain, I can't think about it. I can't, I can't it's horrible.. Miss, please help me, I can't stop thinking..." I was babbling complete nonsense but I didn't know what else to do. I pulled at my hair and sobbed with my head still in my hands. I only caught parts of whatever was being said by my boyfriends mum, overwhelmed with emotion. She helped me up, and we went inside.

* * *

oh god this chapter i don't even know what happened with it! i just felt bad for not updating, so here you are!

to be honest, i'm not actually sure what barry has done to imogen yet, let me know your ideas and things for upcoming chapters aswell because i'm running out of storylines!

also, might not be updating for a while again. first exam on monday, ahh, scary times.

cheers for reading x


	55. The Aftermath

"Do you ever answer your phone?" Christine shot in a harsh whisper the second her son walked through the door; rattling around in that house alone after certain revelations meant unwanted memories of the past being triggered. That poor girl.. it was a terrible thing, she wouldn't wish it on her worst enemy.

"I was doing the homework that _you _set us. Why?" Connor pulled his coat off and as he threw it over the bannister, something caught his eye. Through the open door, he glanced what looked like his girlfriend, asleep on the living room sofa. Baffled, he pointed and said confusedly, "What.."

"Come in here." Christine said, moving towards the kitchen. "Something has happened."

The wariness in her voice worried him; why on earth would Imogen be asleep on the sofa? Why would she even be at their house, for starters? It was odd that she hadn't turned up for school after she said she was going to the dentist, but he didn't really think anything of it, she probably just decided a day off was more appealing than double History with McFall. "Mum?"

Taking a deep breath, she attempted to explain the situation as easily as she could but this was Connor, and everyone knew how much he loved that girl. He'd also just left hospital after trying suicide, and was finally in the throes of recovery from pyromania. This could, potentially, push him over the edge; it wasn't about him, though, it was about his girlfriend who had been undoubtedly traumatised. "I came home and Imogen was sat outside, she looked absolutely awful Connor, and I mean awful. She was crying, shaking, asking for you.. I brought her inside and asked her what had happened. Why don't you answer your phone?"

"Don't start on me, this isn't my fault! What happened?" He asked, hoping the tone of his voice stressed the importance of his words without letting on that he was absolutely terrified. This didn't sound at all like Imogen; she was feisty, she didn't let anyone walk all over her, Connor knew that better than anyone. Whatever had happened to her must have been truly horrible for her to have reacted like that. His heart in his throat, he repeated, "Mum, what happened?"

"Connor, she said she'd been raped."

"R-raped?"

It broke her heart to see his face literally transform; worry to anger to confusion and then horror. "Don't do anything stupid, son. Don't get angry. I know you'll want to but you just can't, and don't even think about fire, not for one second, alright?"

Connor's legs almost collapsed and a strong feeling of nausea rose in the back of his throat. The words hadn't sunk in properly yet, it was as if his brain had put up protective barriers - he didn't want to think of Imogen in that position, terrified and alone. He looked up, hoping for some reassurance like a lost child but when it didn't come, he simply mumbled, "What do I do?"

"All you can do. Just be there for her, she's going to need it."

...

For Connor, it felt like an age waiting for Imogen to wake up. Conflicting emotions battered his mind - how was he supposed to feel? He couldn't use fire, he promised his mum and he promised himself a long time ago that all that was in the past, it only complicated matters. He couldn't talk to his mum about it; he felt too awkward, with her having been through it all herself.. should he be comforting her, too? Should he be asking her if she's okay? He didn't know, and there was no outlet for his frustrations. It was basically the recipe for disaster.

"I've called her mum. She's on her way." Christine explained.

"Great."

"What?"

"She's going to kill me." Connor said, bitterly. There was no love lost between the two, although Connor didn't actually have anything against her, he just hated that Sally still held a grudge over the fire.

"I think she's got more important things to think about than you."

"I know, but she'll still find a way to blame this on me. Do you know what she said? She thinks I'll be in jail by the time I'm 18."

Hearing the door knock, Christine said "Well, prove her wrong." and went to let Sally in.

The glamorous, health-conscious woman entered, looking flustered. Her hair, for once, was not perfect. Wisps of blonde curls flicked outwards and inwards, and amazingly, she didn't seem to care. Sally said absolutely nothing; instead, she marched straight up to Connor and slapped him round the face. He didn't react, he was expecting it. "I told her to stay away from you. I told her you were trouble!"

"It's not his fault." All three span round to look at the source of the unexpected voice that entered the air. Imogen's voice was weak. Her face was covered in tear-tracks, the minimal mascara she wore now spread haphazardly under her eyes, which looked incredibly sore. It was a heartbreaking sight - Christine already felt deep resentment towards whoever had done this to her, it was utterly sickening to see it affect yet another life. Connor was speechless; the stinging pain ricocheting through his face didn't matter. His thoughts were completely stolen by the sight of his girlfriend, and he silently swore to murder whoever had done this to her.

"Oh my god.. what have they done to you?" Sally exclaimed, rushing over to her daughter's side.

Connor, wide-eyed, caught Imogen's glance. Eyes full of tears, she didn't hesitate; Imogen found herself falling into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. There was nothing Sally or Christine could do but watch, and hope he could finally be the boyfriend he protested that he was - a good one.

...

"I don't want to talk about it." The four of them had moved into the living room. Christine made cups of tea, and they all sat down, trying to ignore the awkward, nail-biting atmosphere blanketing the whole situation. Imogen was the first to speak - she knew what they all wanted to say, to ask.. and she didn't know if she could summon the strength to do it.

"You don't have to, sweetheart, not until you're ready." Sally reassured; she had apologised for hitting Connor. "But.. do you know who it was?"

It was the perfect opportunity for Imogen to end all this. The evidence was stacked up against Barry, and medical and DNA tests would prove the whole thing when he inevitably denied the crime. He would be sent away for a long time, long enough for everyone who he had every hurt, manipulated or bullied to get him out of their system, and in Imogen's case, put their lives back together. But the words wouldn't materialize. Maybe it was loyalty to best friend Dynasty. No, it was fear. She was terrified of him, she always knew he was unhinged but never thought he would stoop so low. Taking everything into consideration, Imogen's eyes once again filled with tears and she simply said, "No. He was just.. a man."

"We have to call the police." Christine said. She hadn't wanted to impose, but it was one of the biggest regrets of her life. She was still haunted by the thought that Joe's father could have hurt other girls after her. "The quicker the better, it gives them a lot more chance of finding him."

"And how would you know so much about it?" Sally was full of venom. As far as she was concerned, Christine was as bad as that delinquent son of hers. She had heard all about her alcoholic tendencies from Imogen.

Ignoring Connor's knowing glance, Christine tried to keep the resentment out of her voice as she said, "It's just common sense. You'll have to go and see a doctor and get tested for.. diseases and things."

"I'll go to a doctor but I'm not talking to the police. Please, don't make me talk to the police." Imogen pleaded. "Can we go home?"

"Of course we can."

"Your things are at the bottom of the stairs, Imogen." Christine smiled.

Connor followed his girlfriend out of the living room, leaving their mums alone in the vain hope that they wouldn't kill each other. Faintly, he could hear the sound of various statements of sympathies and more surprisingly, Sally thanking Christine for looking after her daughter. He still felt fairly awkward, completely lost for words. What do you say to a rape victim? And what do you say to a rape victim who is also your girlfriend? He went with the traditional, "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yeah." Imogen forced a smile, hoping her words were full of confidence rather than the utter devastation she was feeling. Even now, after everything, she still felt the need to protect Connor. Nothing good ever came from him getting angry or upset. "You know me. I can deal with anything."

"I love you. We'll get through this, I promise."


	56. The Counselling Issue

It didn't come as a shock to Christine when she couldn't sleep that night. Rape was a prominent feature in the newspapers and on the television, but it hit her hard when it affected someone quite close to her. Drunk Christine always managed to push the memories of her experience to the back of her mind, and even sober Christine managed to ignore it the best she could; she told herself she got a beautiful son out of it, and there was no point in letting it ruin her life. When Imogen admitted what had happened to her, she felt nauseous and hadn't been able to get the poor girl off her mind. It was a sick, sick thing - something no-one should have to go through. She was nursing a coffee at the kitchen table, thinking, when her phone went off. Confusion came when she saw it was an unknown number trying to make contact, but curiosity prevailed and she answered.

"Hello?"

The conversation was enlightening, to say the least, and she didn't know whether to be angry or not. The one thing she did know was that she needed to speak to her son, as soon as possible. She went to the bottom of the stairs and shouted, "Connor, wake up! There's something we need to talk about."

A little while later, a dishevelled-looking Connor entered the kitchen, clutching at his phone for dear life. If Imogen needed to talk to him, he would not miss that call or text. He promised he would be there for her no matter what. "What do you want?"

"I just got a phone call."

"You woke me up to tell me that? Right, well, I'm happy for you.. can I go back to bed now?"

"Sit down." Christine said, sternly. "Do you want to tell me why you haven't been going to counselling?"

Connor sighed. He was hoping she wouldn't find out, especially now she stopped the drink, she always seemed to care more about trivial issues like these when her judgement wasn't clouded by alcohol. Truth was, he had thought about going but he just couldn't face it - talking about problems makes them a whole lot more real, and he wanted them to be non-existent. Connor thought he was managing perfectly fine by himself. He had Imogen, he didn't need to talk to some patronising jobsworth. "What does it matter?"

"Are you serious? You don't remember that going to the sessions were one of the conditions that kept you out of jail?" She was serious now. This was no time to take into consideration his problems and emotions. If the police did find out he hadn't been attending, God knows what could happen to him. He needed chance to get his life back on track, and right now he needed to be there for Imogen; that wasn't possible from a cell.

"Why are they bothering to tell you now?" Connor asked, confused. He grabbed a glass from the cupboard and filled it with water, feeling casual about the whole thing. "I've missed months. I was hoping they would just forget about me."

"They found out about you being in hospital. Anyway, long story short, they want to up the sessions to twice a week and I agreed."

"What?!" Connor had to try hard not to shout. "It's not your decision to make!"

"I agreed on your behalf. You're still only seventeen, you're not an adult yet."

He crossed his arms and like a recalcitrant child, he said, "I'm not going."

"Yes, you are. I'll make sure of it."

"You can drag me there by my hair if you want Mum, but you can't make me talk."

"Oh, don't be so childish. How bad can it be?" There had been times in the past when Christine thought about seeking professional help. One day, years ago, the hangover had been so bad it refused to let itself be blotted out by more alcohol. She had a screaming toddler running around the house, and she broke down in tears. Everything caught up with her and she decided enough was enough - why should that monster destroy her life? She made an informed decision to go to the doctor in the morning and ask for something, anything, to let her sort her life out.. but obviously, addiction is a powerful thing and an hour later she had taken two paracetamol and was down the off license, stocking up. "Have you spoken to Imogen?"

"She rang me last night." The mention of Imogen solidified the tense atmosphere. It was something he really didn't want to think about, especially after what she had told him last night. "I think it's my fault."

Christine began pulling things out of her handbag, throwing away unneeded items. It took her mind out of the conversation. "Why would you say that?"

"Because she told me the only reason she was walking to school that day was because she had an argument with her mum and refused to get in the car with her. Three guesses to who they were arguing about." He said miserably, checking his phone again; no new messages.

"You can't blame yourself like that." Wanting to bring a quick halt to the conversation, she said, "Go and get ready for school. I'll give you a lift if you're quick."

"Oh, and Mum?" Connor said, tentatively. He wasn't sure whether to ask, but he felt maybe he should. "I was just wondering if you were.. okay?"

It was funny - Christine hadn't realised how much she needed to be asked that until she was. She grinned, suddenly feeling the most normal she had felt in a long time. "I'm fine, you know me. I'm always fine."

* * *

sorry for the uninteresting short chapter but i watched doctor who (how GOOD PLEASE?) and couldn't be bothered doing any more revision tonight so i thought i'd update, but it turns out my mind it completely blank!

also, if you're into game of thrones, i've just started a GoT fic - have a look if you like!

thanks for reading x


	57. Cigarettes and Indirect Confessions

Imogen's head was at breaking point, so full of contrived ideas and feeble attempts to make sense of this whole terrible experience. Even if she had wanted to go to school today, her new-found guard dog of a mother would more than likely lock all doors and windows to stop her from leaving, and anyway, the monster who did this to her would be at school. One glance at his chiselled features would make her feel nauseous; all the work she had put into biting her tongue and not telling Connor the truth about the identity of her attacker would be rendered pointless. To some, hiding his identity from the person close to her may seem illogical, but Imogen was terrified that if Connor found out, the repercussions would be worse than anything they have experienced together. She had managed to convince herself that Barry only did this to her because of the way her boyfriend betrayed him; how better to get back at someone than to hurt the person closest?

She closed her eyes, and heard that silky accent. Etched onto her eyelids were his fiery eyes, staring at her with deep hatred and the pleasure sparkling in his eyes as he realised he had found the perfect ammunition to hurt Connor for good. She should hate Connor for this, for putting her through something like this, but she couldn't. She had to keep her thoughts rational, for the good of her own sanity if anything.

"Imogen?" Sally said, knocking softly on the bedroom door. "Are you awake, love?"

"Yeah," She replied, feebly.

Sally entered the room with a cup of tea in hand; she set it down on the bedside table and took a seat on the edge of her daughters bed. "How you feeling?"

Imogen shook her head and mentally promised herself she wouldn't cry. "I can't explain it.. I just can't stop thinking. I just want to forget about it, but even when I sleep I have nightmares."

"Oh, love." Sally put a comforting arm on Imogen's shoulder, a lump rising in her throat. "Have you changed your mind about going to the police? Whoever did this to you needs to be caught-"

"No."

"But he could be out there, choosing another victim as we speak! I swear, if I ever find him, I'll castrate the evil bastard."

"I don't want to talk to anyone. What's the point? It won't turn back time."

Sally sighed. "Okay, well, if you're sure.. listen, sweetheart, I have to go to work. Will you be okay on your own? I can take the day off if not, I'd rather be here with you than making sweaty men exercise all day."

"No you wouldn't." Imogen chuckled softly. It was the first time she had let anything remotely resembling a laugh break through the barriers. It was nice, it felt natural, and signified a smattering of hope. "You love your job. I'll be fine, Mum, just go."

"Well, if you're sure." She smiled. "Call me as soon as you need anything and I'll be straight home, okay?"

"Yeah. Actually," The young girl sat upright in her bed, running her hand through her mangled hair to try and tame it. "There is something you could do for me."

"Yeah?"

"Can you just.. try and accept Connor?"

"Imogen.." Sally frowned; she knew this was coming, but being civil to that boy was going to be hard.

"Hear me out, please! I love him, Mum, I love him more than anything in the world and before you say it, it's not just stupid teenager love, it's the real thing. He didn't mean to hurt me in that fire, if anything, it was my fault, I went in to help him! We've been through so much together and he's always been there for me, through everything." Her voice cracked under the strain of her rant, feeling painfully sore from crying herself to sleep last night. "It would mean a lot, especially now, if you could make up with him. I'm not saying you have to be best friends, just be civil to him."

"I'll think about it. That's all, I'll think about it. And if I do decide to forgive him, it's going to take a long time." Sally kissed Imogen on the forehead, said goodbye and left, not before making her promise to call her the second she needed her.

If her mum decided to accept her boyfriend, then at least one good thing had come out of this experience. Imogen allowed herself a small smile, and reached for her phone, drawing up a new text to Connor, who would be awake for school. Moments of deliberating about what to type led to ultimate frustration - why wouldn't the words come? Why didn't she know what to say to him?

...

It was odd to see the whole school carrying on as normal; they didn't know what had happened to Connor's girlfriend, obviously, but he still felt something should be different. He felt guilty. Here he was, walking down the corridor with his best friends, having to bare-faced lie to their faces when they asked about the her absence.

"Is Imogen not here, again?" Dynasty asked. "We were meant to be designing her outfit for her dance exam today."

"Oh, erm, no, I think she's ill." Connor stuttered, struggling to spontaneously lie.

"You think? You must know, mate." Kevin joked.

Connor didn't reply, hoping they would leave it. Luckily for him, as soon as they start speaking to each other they argued, so the subject was quickly changed. He attempted to tune out their married couple-like bickering, but he was grasping at straws trying to take his mind of the situation and stop himself from over-thinking the fact Imogen hadn't text him today.

"Dynasty, just admit it. You're never going to beat me at chess."

"Budgen's been giving me lessons."

"That means nothing. Doesn't stop you being a bimbo." Kevin chided, quite harshly. Dynasty might not have been your stereotypical academic success story, but she was certainly the brainiest in the family, and even, on occasion, managed better grades than Kevin in English.

"Call me a bimbo one more time, I dare you."

The three of them finally got to the front of the queue to leave their mobile phones in the hatch. It was the last thing Connor wanted to do; he wanted to keep his phone in his hand at all times, just in case Imogen needed something, anything. He felt a strong feeling of disgust when he passed it over to the teacher collecting them, and in general - he shouldn't have let this happen to her. Surprisingly, for once, he hadn't began to blame himself.. yet. He knew it wasn't his fault. Maybe it was understanding the truth about his conception.. whatever it was, it felt good to know something bad had happened and it wasn't his fault.

Connor found himself smiling as he lost himself in thought. Snapping back to reality, he wasn't shocked to hear his best friends still arguing. "Will you two shut up? Or better still, promise me I can be best man at the wedding."

"Wedding? To him? No, thank-you." Dynasty pouted, walking away in the opposite direction from the boys.

"She's so into you, mate."

"What? Don't be stupid."

"Of course she is, this whole chess thing.. it's just an act. She's trying to get close to you."

"Whatever. Come on, we've got English first."

Connor rolled his eyes at that. It was just another reminder that he was now being forced to attend counselling. His first session was tomorrow after school, and Christine had told him that she would call the counsellor afterwards to see if he'd been, and if he hadn't, she would escort him there herself. To Connor, it was hard to imagine a worse situation - a suicidal pyromaniac turning up to counselling with his ex-alcoholic mother. Nice.

...

The sun beamed heavily down onto the students at lunchtime that day. The playground was full of the youngest kids running around energetically, some played football, some lounged lazily under the comforting shade of the trees. Connor sat alone on the steps near the bike sheds, where the small amount of smokers in Waterloo Road got their daily fix.

"Oi!" Barry swaggered up to him, grinning. "Alright?"

Connor sighed, in no mood for Barry today. He needed to completely cut all ties with the eighteen year old if he ever wanted to get his life back on track. Getting involved with him was the worst mistake he ever made. "What do you want?"

"Well, you're on your own.. and I'm bored." Barry pulled a packet of cigarettes and lit one, and offered one to Connor. "Here."

"I don't smoke."

"It's just one. Take it!" Barry said, full of intimidation.

He pulled the stick from the packet reluctantly, not really seeing a way out of this one that didn't end in a punch in the face. "Fine."

"I thought we could have a chat."

"What could we possibly have to talk about? The fact that you turned me into your personal drug dealer, or that you tried to set me up for arson? Take your pick."

"Listen, mate, I only did what was necessary. You messed me around, and I told you before you got involved that I don't stand for it. You knew what you were getting yourself into. You're as much to blame as me." The words fell from his lips through a mixture of smoke.

Connor cringed. The cigarette was making him feel light-headed and it was disgusting. Also, he knew Barry was right. He had known what he was getting into, but at the time the motivation was so strong that he disregarded the future repercussions. If only he had took a moment to think about it.. this whole mess wouldn't have happened. "Yeah, well, there was no need to try and get me sent to prison." They sat in silence for a few moments. Connor tried not to let himself enjoy the cigarette - it wasn't a nice habit but strangely, it was clearing his head. The light-headedness fell away, leaving in it's place a rationalised mind. It was nice.

Barry broke the silence. "How's Imogen, mate?"

"What do you mean?"

"I heard what happened to her the other night. Awful business, that."

The half gone cigarette dangling in his fingers, Connors suspicions were immediately aroused. "How did you know about that?"

The chance for a reply was destroyed as Mr Clarkson came around the corner. "Ah, another two smokers for my collection! Come on, you'll be spending the rest of your day in the cooler." Barry followed without argument, weirdly. Connor, though, was paralysed with thought. How would Barry know what had happened to Imogen? He was pretty sure he was the only one who knew in the school. Dynasty didn't know, so that eliminated the option of him finding out from his sister.

"Barry.. how do you know what happened? Why would you know?"

The lad winked, and gave a small chuckle. "That's for me to know, mate, that's for me to know."

* * *

i just want to say one thing that i forgot to put on the other chapter - i know barry isn't this evil in the show, and in the show i don't think he would be capable of something like this but for the purposes of this fic i've made him worse than he actually is.

thanks for reading!


	58. The Truth At Last

Knocking uneasily on the door, Connor was racking his brain to find the words to say when it opened. Maybe Sally would answer, and that would be even worse; she may have apologised to him but he was pretty sure she still held a grudge against him. The fact Imogen hadn't text him was really playing on his mind, though, and ever since his confrontation with Barry.. he was just confused, and he needed to talk to his girlfriend as soon as possible. Slipping casually out of school at lunchtime, Connor walked straight to her house without a second thought.

Not long later, a timid voice could be heard but the door stayed shut. "Who is it?"

"It's me." Connor replied, saddened that someone had actually reduced his once fiery girlfriend to being unable to answer the door out of pure fear.

He heard the click of a lock; the door opened and Imogen stood in front of him in a grey dressing gown. Her face, although naturally pale, seemed almost transparent, her eyes still red from tears. It was amazing, she still looked stunning, despite everything that had happened to her. "What are you doing here?"

"I came to see if you were okay." said Connor, with an endearing smile.

"Well, I'm fine so you should probably get back to school. Don't get in trouble because of me."

"Oh, they won't even notice I'm not there. I'm meant to be in the cooler, don't ask. Can I, er, come in? I need to talk to you."

...

Connor sat awkwardly on his girlfriends bed while she made cups of tea downstairs. It was the strangest feeling - the atmosphere felt tense, almost as if they were two strangers forced into a conversation. They were great before this, better than they had been since the fire.

"Here." Imogen entered her room, handing her boyfriend a steaming hot cup of tea. "No sugar, yeah?"

"Of course, best way to have it!"

She chuckled, and it didn't feel so forced. "What's up, then? You're in too much trouble with school to go skiving all the time. Something must have happened."

"It's just," Connor took a deep breath, silently hoping his next couple of words wouldn't kick off a massive argument. It was the last thing Imogen needed, and Connor wanted to be there for her, rather than at loggerheads with her. It wouldn't be fair of him to force her to talk about things she was uncomfortable remembering or relaying, but part of him couldn't help himself. "well, I spoke to Barry earlier."

"Yeah?" said Imogen, fighting off the inevitable tears, keeping her voice neutral. "He's not hassling you about the drugs again, is he?"

"Imogen.. why didn't you tell me?"

"Tell you what?"

"That is was Barry who.." The word rape stuck in his throat. "did this to you."

She couldn't help it, couldn't keep them back any longer; streams of tears broke through, running haphazardly down her cheeks and stinging her already painful eyes. Connor instinctively moved toward her, draping a comforting arm around her shoulder. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be daft." He wiped away a stray tear balancing under her eye, ready to drop. "It's nothing to get upset over! I was just wondering why you didn't tell me. You can talk to me, you know, about anything."

"I know, it's just.. the way you react to things, I didn't want you to start setting fires again."

Connor sighed guiltily._ Of course,_ he thought. "So, do you want to go to the police now?"

"No! Why won't people listen to me? I don't want to go the police!" Imogen sobbed, anger flaring.

"Okay, okay.. fine. You don't have to do anything you don't want to. I won't make you anyway, but.. why not?"

"Because it wasn't Barry."

"What?" Connor asked, confusedly. This whole situation was twisting and turning with annoying pace; no-one was giving him straight answers, but he refused to let himself make it personal, he wasn't that egotistical. "Well, how did he know about it then?"

Sighing, the traumatised girl decided enough was enough. Of course she could tell Connor the truth, he was the closest person in her life, and he would never judge her or think bad of her. If she knew that, though, why couldn't she put it into practice? "It was his friend. Steve-O, I think he's called. At first, I thought it was Barry because he was the one who pulled me into the alley, and the one I was arguing with. When I realised.. what was going to happen, I closed my eyes.. I didn't fight back.. why didn't I fight back, Connor?" she asked, her voice cracking once again.

"You were terrified!" He spoke with a soothing element to his voice, though he wasn't very good at this comforting thing. "Like I said, it's not your fault. Barry, this Steve-O, they're obviously stronger than you. They're in the wrong, not you. Don't think that for one second, alright?"

Wiping her cheek with the now tear-stained sleeve of her dressing gown, she rested her head softly against his arm, feeling safe for the first time in last couple of days. "I still don't want to go to the police."

"I know you don't, but Imogen-"

"No, Connor, listen to me. Barry was involved, even though he didn't actually do it.. and he's Dynasty's brother, I can't do that to her, she's my best friend! And, if I tell the police, it will all come out about you working for him and you're on probation, you'll go to prison. I can't deal with that, I just can't.. I need you now more than ever."

"Okay, if you're sure." He kissed the top of her head affectionately.

"Promise me one thing?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't do anything stupid and don't set any fires. I think Steve-O is staying in Scotland for a while, something I heard them talking about.. if you see him, don't say anything, don't kick off. He's close to Barry and you don't need any more trouble from him. Promise me?" Imogen looked directly into his sparklingly beautiful eyes, almost pleading.

"Oh, you're too nice." Connor laughed. "How can you still be worrying about me when you've been through something as horrible as this?"

"Because you're the best thing that's ever happened to me, and you're an idiot." Imogen said, smiling as her boyfriend clutched a hand to his heart, feigning offence. "But you're my idiot, and I love you. Now, you need to get back to school, or you're going to get thrown out or something!"

"Fine, I'm going, I've got English with mum this afternoon anyway, she'll only ask questions if I'm not there." He climbed off the bed gently, straightening up his tie and pulling on his coat. "Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, I'll be good, might watch a film or something." She smiled. "I love you.

"Call me if you need anything, I'll try and get my phone back from the office. I love you, too."


	59. New Arrivals

It was hard for Connor to see his normally gorgeously feisty girlfriend transform into a girl so timid and afraid; when it was those two alone, flickers of Imogen's personality shone through and she did her best to act unshaken in front of people, especially those who were still oblivious to what she had been through, but the haphazard way she had been attending school told a different story. People had started noticing, too, and the ill excuse had been exhausted. Dynasty and Kevin had been told, but Imogen had been adamant in her decision not to tell them who it was. Only Connor knew it was this Steve-O bloke, and if she didn't want anyone else to know, then of course he would respect her wishes.

Today, Imogen decided enough was enough. She had her exams soon, and she was not going to throw away all her hard work because of an evil thug. It was hard enough to drag herself out of bed, but when she opened her front door to see her boyfriends eyes, sparkling pools of reassurance, her nerves were abated slightly and they walked to school together, hand in hand. School itself was different. Students in general have a tendency to zone out during lessons, distracted by the slightest thing, but Imogen didn't want to be alone with her thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Connor whispered in English that morning.

She had really been listening, choosing to ignore Mrs Mulgrew's tediously in-depth analysis of whatever book they had started studying while Imogen had been absent, but her boyfriends silky Scottish voice pulled her out of the day-dream. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Just checking." He grinned.

"You don't have to worry about me." She said; despite being eternally grateful for his support over the past couple of weeks, she didn't like everyone fussing over her. "You didn't want people treating you differently when you put yourself in hospital, did you?"

"No.. but that's different."

"No, it's not." Imogen gave him a smile to show she wasn't trying to start an argument. "What happened to me wasn't my fault and I understand that, so I'm not letting it get to me. I still.. I still think about it, and I remember being so scared.. but I think I was wrong about him sticking around in Scotland. Or if I wasn't, I haven't seen him, so I haven't got any surprise reminders. All I need to do now is, like, throw myself into exams and stuff. Anyway, I should be asking how you are."

Connor creased his brow, confused. "Why?"

"You did try and kill yourself not long ago, did you not?"

"Oh." He shrugged. "Feels like ages ago now."

"So, you're alright? You're not going to do it again or anything?" Imogen felt like she already knew the answers to all her questions, that she was just opening old wounds, but talking about someone else's problems, no matter how old, helped to divert her own troubled mind.

He didn't reply, only picked up his pen and idly began copying down the notes on the board. He wasn't feeling great, if truth be told, but he would never let Imogen know that. He wouldn't allow himself to be so selfish as to over-shadow her situation with his own problems. Every night, he had a nightmare. Every night, he dreamt he couldn't breathe, that every one of his organs were shutting down slowly, not granting him the mercy of a painless death. It was strange, and often unbearable, but who could he talk to about it? Not his mum, he had put her through enough, and she was trying yet again to get sober. Imogen, for obvious reasons, was out of the question. Worse, his coping mechanism was long gone - Connor couldn't remember the last time he had started a fire, but even being without it for so long didn't dampen the want. It was always there, in the back of his mind. The one good thing to come out of his dependence was, to him, the way his intense disgust towards his mothers addiction had reduced. Ever since he found out the real reason behind her addiction, and as his own got dangerously out of control, he realised it wouldn't be as easy for her to just stop as he had always imagined.

...

Glorious sunshine beamed down on the students as they milled around the playground at lunchtime. Connor, Kevin, Imogen and Dynasty lounged on the grass, each of them trying hard to ignore the awkward elephant in the room. They all tried their best to made idle conversation, but a group of best-friends shouldn't have to force out conversation like this and Imogen hated knowing it was because of her that the atmosphere was so tense.

"So, are you two together then yet?" She asked, amiably trying to break the ice and let them know they don't have to walk on eggshells around her.

Dynasty almost choked. "What?"

"Oh, don't act so shocked." Connor said. "You're well into each other."

Kevin laughed. He turned to the blonde girl and asked, "Shall we just tell them?"

"Alright, but we don't want you two telling anyone, not yet!" Dynasty smiled, leaning over to Kevin and pulling him in to a kiss. "We're together."

Suddenly, things felt normal again. Imogen laughed along with her three closest friends, asking questions about the new relationship and jokingly suggesting double dates and double weddings. They had been teetering on the edge of closeness for months, but no-one expected them to actually get together; they were too opposite, but as they say, opposites attract. For a little while, she felt completely at east, the happiest she had been since the attack.

A black car with red stripes burst into the playground, almost taking out a couple of surprised year eights as it did. The driver parked up with no particular care or skill; two lads got out, charmingly oblivious that all eyes were on them.

"Isn't that Barry?" Connor said, keeping the bitterness out of his voice when talking to his sometimes protective sister. "Who's he with?"

Dynasty looked up, instantly recognising the other boy. "Oh my god, Steve-O!"

Connor, who had an arm draped around Imogen's neck, felt her tense up at the mention. Steve-O isn't too unusual a name, right? _It could be anyone,_ she tried to reassure herself, but instinctively she knew that that was her attacker. For him to be with Barry, and for Dynasty to recognise him on sight - it was too much of a coincidence. They both watched as their friend ran over to the lanky newcomer, flinging her arms around his neck, not sparing a thought to what Kevin, her boyfriend, would be thinking.

"Do you want to go?" Connor said to Imogen, quietly so as not to arouse Kevin's suspicions.

"No, I can handle it." She choked out. Or, she thought she could handle it. Seeing Dynasty pulling Steve-O over to where they sat to meet her friends, Imogen immediately jumped to her feet and rushed away, heading back into the school. "Don't follow me, Connor." She couldn't physically be in any kind of proximity to him, not today, not ever.

"Er, where's she gone?" Dynasty asked when she got back, still clutching Steve-O's arm. Connor shrugged. He didn't know whether to follow her or not, and right now he was too immersed in giving Steve-O the evillest of looks. "Well, everyone, I want you to meet Steve-O. He was a mate in Liverpool."

"Bit more than a mate, babe." He grinned, unaware that Dynasty's new boyfriend was sitting right there.

She giggled, glancing uneasily at Kevin. "Yeah, well.. this is Connor, and the girl who ran off was his girlfriend, Imogen, and that's Kevin. What are you doing here, anyway?"

Steve-O began explaining all about how he had came back for Dynasty, how he had got parole, and showing off his sickeningly cheesy tattoo across his chest. In normal circumstances, Connor would feel sorry for Kevin having to listen to this, but all Connor could do at the moment was silently hate this strange lad with the thick accent and feel guiltier and guiltier for not following his girlfriend as every second passed.

...

Making her way carefully back to her classroom as carefully as she could with a steaming hot cup of coffee in her hand, Christine heard a soft sobbing noise. Inquisitively, she followed the sound. It was still lunch and on a day as warm as this, most students were outside in the playground, most teachers as usual inhabiting the staff-room. She got to the steps directly leading to her room and found the source of the muffled cry.

At the bottom of the stairs, Imogen sat alone, her head rested against the bannister and her arms clutched tightly around her stomach, as if trying to comfort herself. Tears were clearly running down her face, but there was no-one around to disturb her.

_Poor girl_, Christine thought. "Imogen?"

The girl looked up, her eyes burning a crimson red from the tears. "He's here, Miss. The man who.. he's here."

"In the school?" Imogen nodded. "It's not a student, is it?" It would be a completely different story if it was. It didn't matter if Imogen didn't want to inform the authorities, if it was a student who had assaulted her and Christine didn't inform the head, she could potentially lose her job.

"No. I don't think he's supposed to be here but when I saw him.. I thought I was okay, I _was_ okay! But then he turned up and it all came back to me. I couldn't be around him so I just ran off. I didn't know where to go, really." Imogen explained, wiping the remaining tears from her cheeks now that she had calmed down. "I just want it all to stop."

"It will get easier, Imogen. It will."

"How would you know?"

That stung, but understandably, the young girl was lashing out at everyone who tried to offer their empty reassurances. Christine had been the same at first, when she was still in contact with her sister, the only person she had the guts to confide in. "I just know. I understand what you're going through more than you think, Imogen. But you do know that you could take the first step towards it getting easier, and go to the police?"

"I can't, Miss. I want to, but I can't. It would have.. repercussions. And not good ones."

The teacher sighed. The coffee in her hand had gone cold, but she couldn't bring herself to leave the poor girl alone. Luckily for her, Connor turned up right on cue.

"I thought I told you not to follow me." Imogen mumbled.

"Yeah, I know but when do I ever listen to anything anyone tells me? I just came to tell you that he's gone." Connor said to his girlfriend. Christine could tell he was completely out of his depth with the whole situation, but felt proud of him for the way he had dealt with it. "He was acting so casual, the evil.."

"Wait, you know who it was?" Christine asked, suddenly.

"Yeah, but I didn't know he was going to be here, did I?"

"And you just sat and spoke to him like nothing had happened?"

"Why are you having a go at me?" Connor said, almost getting annoyed. "I'm the only one who knows who he actually is, she doesn't want anyone to know and if we both ran away it would have looked a bit suspicious, wouldn't it?"

"Even so. How could you talk to him, knowing what he did?" She didn't know why she was getting so angry about it; maybe it was pent up feelings from the past. Whatever it was, the two of them were so immersed in the escalating argument that they didn't realise the girl who needed their attention get up and walk away, tears once again springing from her eyes.

Connor noticed first. "Imogen, where are you going?"

She was already half way down the corridor. She turned to face him and repeated, "Don't follow me!"

"Well done." He said to Christine, earning himself a glare. _Where is she going?_ Connor thought to himself. This time, though, he listened to his girlfriend, not following her, instead focusing his attentions on another girl. Dynasty knew this mentalist, she seemed happy to see him and even disregarded her own boyfriends feelings to introduce him to the group. She could help, some-how.


	60. Ripple Effect

Kevin Chalk was miserable. He didn't care what he looked like; he was too engrossed in sadly unfamiliar feelings of being second best, again. It had happened all his life. First with his biological parents, then followed up by the insane number of foster homes he had been dumped in and then inevitably pulled out of. Kevin had finally found genuine happiness with Chalky - the bloke might be a little overly enthusiastic at times but it made him likeable, and the two of them had a lot in common. He felt like a part of something now and because he thought for the first time in a long time that he had found somewhere to stay, he allowed himself to make friends properly, not just charming people with his cheeky quips and hiding his unbelievable intelligence.

The icing on top of the cake came when Dynasty Barry showed interest in him. One of the most beautiful girls in the school! At first glance they seemed incompatible, but when Kevin began tutoring her a while back, he realised he wasn't the only one hiding some degree of intelligence. They were brainy in their own little ways, and over time they grew closer. It was small things - they could be watching a film with Connor and Imogen, and both feeling like the uncomfortable friend, Dynasty would throw Kevin a little smile that sent his heart racing. But that was gone now, and again, he was relegated to second best, all because someone else had come along and swept her off her feet.

"Are you going to tell me what's up or do I have to sit and endure your miserable face all lesson?" Connor joked, hoping to lighten the mood a little. History was painfully boring today, and he really needed someone to take his mind off the guilt he felt over allowing his troubles with Barry extend to hurt his girlfriend.

"I think Dynasty has finished with me." Kevin said simply.

"Oh, mate.. I'm sorry." He said, feeling bad about bringing it up. "Is it 'cos of Steve-O?"

Kevin nodded. "He's got some sort of, like, affect over her. We were fine until he turned up."

"He's a family friend or something, isn't he?" Connor asked; he had to try and find out everything he could about this idiot without giving Imogen's secret away, and that was going to be tough. Just saying the guys name made his skin crawl, but he had to suppress the feelings of anger until Imogen decided she was ready to go to the police. Connor wanted her to go now. He didn't want her reporting the assault a way down the line and the police not taking her seriously, he didn't want that at all.

"Yeah, and he's just got out of prison. I reckon he helped their dad inside or something, that's why they have to keep him sweet. Why?"

"Just wondering." He mumbled. "So, you alright then? There's no point moping, you weren't even together for that long."

"Could have said the same to you the first time you split up with Imogen." Kevin said bitterly; he sighed. "Sorry. I dunno, I just.. I really care about her."

Their conversation was cut short by the bell. The two boys stuffed their books into their bag and Kevin wandered off, undoubtedly to mope in peace. It left Connor with a really, really hard moral dilemma. Steve-O was a rapist.. could he really let one of his closest friends be drawn into that trap, possibly endangering herself? If anything happened to Dynasty, he would never forgive himself but he couldn't say anything. It just wasn't his secret to tell.

...

It was days since Imogen had almost come face to face with Steve-O, and she was still shaken. There was nothing she could do, though, as she was still completely adamant that the police couldn't get involved. The seventeen year old was sat alone on the chairs near her locker, waiting for the bell for next lesson to go. She refused to go and find Connor, or any of her friends, for fear of bumping into Steve-O, who was still hanging around the school like some sort of lost dog, pining for his girlfriend. Luckily for her, her boyfriend was lovely enough to come and find her.

"Hey." He smiled, sitting down on the empty chair beside her. "You okay?"

Imogen forced a smile, that ended up a grimace. "I feel so bad about Dynasty."

"Yeah, me too. Kevin's miserable as well." Connor slipped his hand into his girlfriends, intertwining their fingers. "Listen, I know you don't want to go to the police but.."

"I'm not telling her."

"What if something happens to her, though? Would you be able to cope with that? I know I wouldn't be able to live with myself."

Imogen pulled her hand from his. "Whose side are you on, Connor?"

"This isn't about sides, Imogen! I love you and I hate him, you know that.. I'm just saying, you know first-hand how sick he is, and Dynasty is one of our best friends. If you don't want to go to the police, fine, I'll try and understand your decision but at least tell her. She can get rid of him, nothing with happen to her, and he won't be hanging around school. I'm not stupid, I can see that you're hating him being around." He felt bad for being so forthright, she was clearly still struggling with the whole awful experience, but Connor felt he had to take it upon himself to do something. Too many times he'd sat back and let things spiral out of control; well, not this time.

Tears began rolling down her cheeks. She gratefully accepted when Connor threw his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. It was amazing how much comfort she could get from him without even speaking. She stayed in the clinch for a while, ignoring the series of strange looks being thrown her way. "I'm sorry." She finally choked.

"You've got nothing to be sorry for, babe. I hate him for doing this to you, I really, really hate him."

"Promise me something?" Imogen said, sitting up straight and wiping away stray tears. "Don't try and, like, get your own back or whatever. He's dangerous."

"Promise."

"And you're right. I have to tell Dynasty."

...

Dynasty was in the girls toilets, pushing floating strands of hair back into the bun on the top of her head. The rims of her eyes were bright red, her tears causing the layers of mascara applied this morning to smudge. She felt like such an idiot. Of course Steve-O hadn't changed. People like him never change. It brought back memories when she first seem him roll up to school with her brother; she was so swept up in the adrenaline and nostalgia that she completely brushed Kevin off without a second thought. Everything was a mess, so wiping the black marks from under her eyes, she left the toilets in search of the boy who quite obviously cared about just as much as Steve-O said he did; they showed their feelings in different ways.

She eventually found him in the library, his home from home. "Kevin, can I talk to you?"

He carried on typing, staring defiantly at the computer screen.

"Don't be like that." Dynasty said, sitting next to him. "I'm sorry, aright?"

"Why don't you leave me alone, yeah? Go back to your shiny new boyfriend."

"It's not like that, it's complicated! Steve-O was a massive part of my life so when I seen him it was a shock. I didn't know he was getting parole, did I? Anyway, it's finished." She explained, hoping that it would get his attention. It was a lie, she hadn't actually told Steve-O that she wanted out yet; he could be quite intimidating at the best of times.

It well and truly got his attention, and he actually dragged his eyes away from the computer screen. "What happened?"

"I thought he'd changed. He hasn't, and I'm not surprised. I suppose I was lying to myself."

"What was he even inside for?" Kevin asked tentatively, unsure whether it was a touchy subject. He should have been ignoring her, but it was as if all the anger had melted away from him when he seen her come over. Dynasty was head-strong; something must have happened for her to come back and apologise.

"Oh, you know, this and that. But he's a good mate to the family, and he helps me dad out occasionally. I was just a kid when we first got together.. I thought I loved him but like I said, I was only young. All he had to do was buy me some popcorn at the cinema and I'd have fallen in love with him." Dynasty sighed, reliving the memories. It was when they were back in Liverpool, a happy, if troubled, family. Barry loved Kacey more than anything in the world; how times change. "I was gutted when he got sent down, but then we moved up to Scotland."

The shrill sound of the bell for next lesson let itself be heard. The two of them walked together, in silence, until Kevin asked the question that had been playing on his mind since Steve-O arrived. "Do you still love him?"

"Kevin.."

"No, tell me. Tell me the truth. Because if you do, then I'll leave it. I'll forget about you, and you can be with Steve-O. We'll still be mates. But if you don't, well, I really care about you Dynasty."

That was it. The words tipped her over the edge. Dynasty, acting on complete instinct, pushed her lips to Kevin's, pulling him into the most genuine kiss she thought she had ever had in her life. It was reciprocated and the two were happier than ever, forgetting all memories of blips. They were back together, and that was how it was going to stay, if Kevin had anything to do with it. Dynasty, on the other hand, tried to convince herself that the butterflies in her stomach were coming from the kiss, rather than fear of what Steve-O was going to say when he found out.

* * *

hey! sorry this took a while. i'm trying to get back into it, not that i don't love writing it, it's just that i lost ~inspiration~ (eugh).

anyway, the next lot of chapters are going to be basically the steve-o, kevin, dynasty, connor and imogen storyline. it won't follow the show, but it will be similar. p.s how good was the ep on thursday? the best episode of series 8, in my humble opinion!

oh and was anyone else wondering why connor was bailed? if he's on probation, surely he wouldn't have been let out? i dunno really i'm not exactly a genius on laws but i thought the whole point of probation was that if you break it you go to jail..

hope you enjoy, and thanks for reading x


End file.
